by Fred Galvin
Vernon asked for some water. Gabi tossed a bottle his way and he was able to take a few sips. After about five minutes on the road she eyed Vernon in her rearview. “So Vernon, it will go a helluva lot easier for you if you cooperate, answer a few questions.”
Still with a resigned manner, he made eye contact in the mirror. “Yeah? What do you want to know?”
“What was this all about? What is Gillian up to that you had to kidnap Ronika Deveaux and hold her?”
“Can I ask you a question first?”
“Sure, but remember, this is quid quo pro.”
“Kid pro what?”
“Quid pro quo. It’s Latin for you scratch my back, I scratch yours. I answer your question, you answer mine. And no bullshit, understand?”
“Yeah, sure. No BS. Can I ask my question now?” Gabi nodded. “How did you find us? How did you know I was in that convenience store?”
In many of the interrogations in which I participated, most of them with Ronnie present, I was always amazed at just how, let’s say, unintelligent, dense, dull-witted (you get the picture) most suspects were. Vernon didn’t disappoint with his question. He must have thought we just pulled up to the Caribbean Carry Out store and nabbed him. Gabi glanced over at me with an expression that said, Is that a serious question? “Would you like to take that one Detective Deckler?”
“My pleasure.” I turned to Vernon. “You see Vernon, we knew you were in the store because we followed you there from the Day-O.”
“You knew we were there? At the Day-O? How the fuck did you …”
“Watch your language, son. Remember, Officer Dixon here pretty much has you by the you-know-whats and such language is disrespectful and may cause her to involuntarily squeeze the quid pro quo right out of you. Understand?”
“Okay, sorry Officer Dixon. So, how did you know we were there? Did you have a drone or something?”
I had to stifle a chuckle and the temptation to say, Yes, that’s right. We had you under surveillance since you abducted her using drone technology. We could have blown your ass to the moon with a hellfire missile but we didn’t want to hurt Ronika. “Actually, your hostage told us exactly where she was.”
“What? When? How did she …?”
“Harry Belafonte.”
“Harry who? There was no one named Harry with us. We were alone there.”
Gabi couldn’t help herself and chuckled. “Vernon, haven’t you ever heard the song Day-O? You know …” And she began to sing the tune with a pleasant singing voice. I tapped the dashboard in time.
Work all night on a drink of rum
Daylight come and me wanna go home
Stack banana ‘til de mornin’ come
Daylight come and me wanna go home
A beautiful bunch o’ ripe banana
Daylight come and me wanna go home
Hide the deadly black tarantula
Daylight come and me wanna go home
“Sure, everybody’s heard that song. Is that Harry the guy who sang it? So how … oh, shit. The phone call with her brother. She talked about rum, and bananas, and a tarantula. It was a code, wasn’t it?”
Gabi held up her index finger. “Ding ding ding ding ding. You got it, Vernon. So we knew you were there and we followed you to the store. Now it’s my turn to ask you a question, and you have to answer or any possible deals we can make are off the table. No lies, got it? Ready?”
“Wow, that was pretty clever. Yeah, I got it. Go ahead.”
“Same question as before. What are you and your brother up to?”
He hesitated. I turned to look at him intensely. “Come on, son. You know it’s not going to work out. The more we know, the better the chances of ending this without him or anyone else getting hurt and the better the chances of possible deals.”
“Okay, okay. It’s guns, another gun run onto the island but this was a big one.” His eyes went wide realizing what he had just said. “Shit, I mean …”
Gabi picked up on it immediately. “Another gun run?”
I was sure Vernon was wishing he had a rewind button. “Shit!”
“So you’ve been running guns onto the island?”
“No, I mean, just a few times. Nothin’ big. Look, what about kid-pro …”
“Forget that for now, Mr. Whyte. We’ll talk about your other gun runs later. Now you keep talking about this big one.”
Vernon looked like a kid who had just been tricked into confessing to stealing a candy bar while he had chocolate all over his fingers. Heavy sigh, “Our little Whaler was too small and we needed a big enough boat to get us to the pickup point and back with the load. Gillian offered Roje Deveaux a cut if he’d run for us in his boat. Roje refused when Gillian offered to cut him in.”
So that was the discussion between Gillian and Roje that night at the Flip Flop. “How much did Gillian offer and how much are you supposed to get for the gun run?”
“Hey, that’s more questions. What about that kid-pro thing?”
I turned to face him and leaned very close with my dead-eyed-cop-persona in full gear. “Vernon, you are in no position to be negotiating right now. You are facing serious kidnapping and gun running charges, both of which can result in your being put away for a very long time. My understanding is that prisons in this country make those in the U.S. look like luxury hotels.” I turned to Gabi. “Am I right, Officer Dixon?”
“Oh, yes. I know you’ve seen the inside of our city jail cells, Mr. Whyte. Trust me when I tell you that a prison experience is ten times worse than that.”
I continued. “So, if you hope for any possible consideration, you need to start telling us what we want to know.” I could see in Vernon’s eyes that he was now officially terrified and ready to dish.
“Okay, okay. Gillian offered Roje ten thousand American dollars and was turned down flat.”
“How much are you supposed to get for the gun run and who’s paying you?”
“All I know is that we’re supposed to get paid one hundred thousand U.S. from some guy named T-Bone. I don’t know anything about him. Just T-Bone.”
I glanced at Gabi who shrugged. “T-Bone? So this T-Bone has been your gun-running supplier?”
Vernon was hang-dog. “Yeah.”
“Where did Gillian meet T-Bone to make this pickup and, here’s the million dollar question, Vernon, the one that will determine just how long you will be the guest of the Jamaican prison system. Where’s the drop?” Even though I knew the answers, I wanted Vernon to think I didn’t and to confirm what Roje had texted us.
“I … I don’t know, man. I think the pickup was at Grand Cayman but I don’t know where the drop-off is. They’ve been in different places in the past so I just don’t know. He’s supposed to call me to tell me when to let Ronika go.”
Gabi and I both realized we weren’t going to get any more out of Vernon. Besides, she was pulling into the Rosemont Station of the MBPD, her base.
~~~
It was nearly midnight when Gabi escorted Vernon Whyte into the Rosemont Station house. Given the hour, there was one desk officer on duty and I could see only one other officer who was sitting at a desk interviewing a tired looking woman who appeared to be lady-of-the-evening. He looked up toward us, a totally bored expression on his face, probably hoping for something to liven up an otherwise dull night. He wouldn’t be disappointed.
I couldn’t help but make a mental comparison to my Seventh Precinct in New York. Even at this hour it would be busy with at least a dozen night-shift officers on duty.
When the three of us entered, the desk officer rose.
In a very thick Jamaican accent, “Evenin’ Officer Dixon (which came out OHfeecer DEEXohn). Aren’t you off duty tonight?” (DOOtee, toNITE. There was something about a Jamaican accent.) Looking at Vernon and me, “Who have you brought along?”
“Yes, well, I’ve been working a case on my own time. This is Vernon Whyte. You may recognize him from previous visits. This other gentleman is Detecti
ve Daniel Deckler, retired from the New York City PD. He’s here on holiday and has been assisting me. Dan, this is Sergeant Banyon.”
Sergeant Banyon and I nodded to each other.
“Sergeant.”
“Detective Deckler.” Then to Vernon. “Ah yes, Mr. Whyte. I believe we had the pleasure of your company about a year or so ago. Has Officer Dixon advised you that you are under caution?”
“Under what? Oh yeah, caution, right. She mentioned that.”
Banyon just shook his head and turned to Gabi. “What do we have tonight?”
“Sergeant, we have a dynamic situation. I suggest we put Mr. Whyte in lockup so we can discuss it.”
Sergeant Banyon passed off Vernon to the other officer to take him to a holding cell. When the officer returned Banyon told him to take over the desk officer duties and invited Gabi and me into an interrogation room where we summarized the events of the past twenty-four-plus hours.
Gabi explained my presence and my relationship with Ronnie in New York. At first I felt Banyon seemed defensive and perhaps a bit intimidated, which I understood. Gabi was a five-year experienced officer. I needed to show some deference and appreciation for accepting me. We also had to get moving to organize our plans to handle Gillian when he arrived. When Gabi detailed my part in securing Ronnie’s release Banyon’s demeanor toward me changed. He was a professional and addressed Gabi.
“You two have had an eventful time. Where is Ms. Deveaux and her mother now?”
“Understandably Ms. Deveaux needed to refresh herself. They will be meeting us here shortly. Sergeant, I suggest we contact Captain Antony immediately and head out to Rio Bueno. Mrs. Deveaux’s phone is on location sharing with her son’s in the boat and we will be able to follow his progress.”
Banyon agreed and called his captain, apologizing for the hour. He briefly summarized the situation. His half of the conversation was interesting. “Yes, sir, on her own time … Yes, she is … That’s right, from New York City. He was very helpful to Officer Dixon … Yes, sir. Ms. Deveaux was his partner. They were homicide detectives. He’s here on holiday … Yes, sir. I’ll call him in immediately. We should be at Rio Bueno within the hour … Yes, sir. We will be out of sight. See you there.”
He turned to us. “Officer Dixon, it seems Captain Antony is impressed with your initiative however you should know he believes you should have brought us into this earlier. Just a heads up. Frankly, I believe you handled it correctly given how things were happening quickly and the sensitivity of the situation with Ms. Deveaux being held hostage. He wants me to call in Officer Monro to assist us. He lives close by. When he gets here we’ll brief him and leave for Rio Bueno immediately.”
Gabi was about to speak but I firmly held her wrist and spoke up. “Sergeant, I strongly suggest we wait until Ms. Deveaux and her mother arrive here. It shouldn’t be long. Please trust me on this. You do not want to leave without them.”
He looked to me and then to Gabi who was nodding in strong agreement. “I understand. We’ll give them a few minutes.”
Chapter 32: Karma
Roje could see his sat phone cast a glow from its mount behind the fire extinguisher indicating an incoming text. He checked the cabin to be sure his two non-paying clients were still in there and hopefully very seasick. He quickly grabbed the phone and displayed the text and accompanying picture …
RONIKA SAFE SENDS GREETINGS TO GILLIAN. ADV YOUR STATUS-DAN
He laughed at the picture of his mother, his sister with her middle finger extended, and Gabi, with Vernon Whyte in handcuffs. It was great news. Ronika was free and well and Vernon was in custody. He quickly tapped out a reply text …
GR8 NEWS. ABOUT FOUR HOURS FROM RIO BUENO. GILLIAN +1 GOON, BOTH ARMED
He sent the text. This time he decided not to delete the text thread. He may have an opportunity to show the picture of Ronika conveying “greetings” to Gillian. He remounted the phone behind the extinguisher and smiled to himself.
He eased the throttle back to three-quarters power as he headed toward Rio Bueno on Jamaica’s north shore. This time the Sea Nymph struggled more than on the ride to Cayman for several reasons. There was a heavy load of guns aboard as well as an additional body in the form of Rico. Add to those the fact that they were now heading into the wind, not a heavy wind but strong enough to cause long rolling waves resulting in the Nymph to roll and pitch. Plus it was very dark and without any running or interior lights, it was very disorienting. The result was a rough ride for his passengers. Roje certainly was accustomed to pitching decks but they were not. Already both Rico and Gillian had come on deck to vomit over the side.
Another reason for throttling back was to give Dan, Gabi, and the MBPD personnel they could muster, enough time to prepare to meet the Nymph at Rio Bueno. Now that Ronika was safe, Roje’s primary concern was to deliver his two passengers and the guns to the authorities.
But he had a dilemma, namely, the disturbing fact that Gillian and Rico had guns. So far Gillian hadn’t resorted to waving his under Roje’s nose to threaten him but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t capable of doing so or even using it. Rico was another story. A gun to him was a normal state of life and using it to him would be no big deal.
As he was contemplating all that, Gillian emerged from the cabin and climbed unsteadily to the bridge. “How are we doing? On course? On schedule?”
“Yes, on course but it’s slow going with these heavy seas and our heavy load. How are you feeling?” Like he really cared beyond hoping Gillian felt like shit.
“Like shit.”
Karma.
Roje didn’t bother to hide his smug smile. Nodding toward the cabin, “How’s your buddy doing?”
“Please, he’s not my buddy. He’s not doing well at all. I don’t think he’s been on very many boats and certainly not one that’s moving around like this. He’s been up here to puke over the side twice and he just now barely made it to the toilet, I mean the head. It stinks down there. I needed some air.”
Roje made a decision, his temptation getting the best of him. “You need to know that it’s all futile now. It’s over for you, no delivery, no payday. They’ll be waiting for us.”
Eyes wide, Gillian stepped back and put his hand on the butt of the gun tucked in his jeans. “Bullshit. What are you talking about?”
Roje decided that the right approach would be conciliatory rather than antagonistic, at least as long as Gillian still had the gun. “Look, Gillian, I know your brother was holding my sister at the Day-O.”
Gillian’s eyes went even wider, if that was even possible. “What? How could you know that?”
Roje let the moment hang a bit before answering, like dangling catnip in front of a kitty. “Think back to the video call we had with her and Vernon. Do you remember Ronika mentioning rum, bananas, potassium, and a tarantula?”
Gillian thought for a moment. “Yeah, so?”
“Have you ever heard the Banana Boat Song by Harry Belafonte?”
“Harry who?”
“You know …” Roje sang the tune. “Day-O, Daaaay-O, Daylight come and me wanna go home.”
“Oh yeah, I remember that song. How’s that tell you … wait, ooooh, now I get it. Day-O. But she never said Day-O in that call.”
Roje thought, Man, dumb as a box of hammers. He spoke slowly so Gillian could understand. “Gillian, like I said. Rum? Bananas? Tarantula? Sound familiar? Sing the song to yourself.”
He watched in amazement as Gillian, hand still on the gun butt, sang the lyrics to himself, his lips moving. Then his eyes went wide again. “Holy shit. It was all a code to tell you about that song which is titled Day-O! Shit! I hate to say it but that was pretty smart.”
“You forget my sister was a detective in New York. You picked the wrong woman to kidnap in more ways than one.”
Gillian looked blankly out to the pitch black sea. He took out his phone, obviously to call Vernon. Of course there was no service in the open sea, unless you had a sat p
hone, which Gillian did not. “No fucking service out here. Well, that still doesn’t prove she’s free.” He paused and looked directly at Roje. “Unless you had a way of telling someone, maybe her friend the New York cop.” He waited for Roje’s reaction.
Roje was so tempted to retrieve his sat phone and stick the text with Ronika’s picture in his face. He debated to himself. If he did that he would surely lose the phone to Gillian who would either shut it off and keep it for his own use or throw it into the sea. If he kept the phone’s existence secret the location sharing would continue to signal the Nymph’s location to Ronika, Dan, and the MBPD people. Additionally, he could possibly use it for leverage at some point. He decided on the latter. Maybe somehow he could relieve Gillian of his gun and then deal with Rico. Then he could show the phone and its delightful message. But not now.
He said nothing which Gillian took for an answer that he had not been able to alert the others, thus, Ronika was still with Vernon.
Gillian grunted, “I thought so.” He took his phone out again and tried Vernon. Still no service.
What bothered Roje was the thought that, as they approached Jamaica, cell service could return depending on how close to the shore they were. He knew from experience that the range of a typical cell tower was three to five miles out to sea. Thus, if he could keep the Nymph outside that range, Gillian’s phone would not pick up a signal. The problem was that three to five miles was a soft estimate. Occasionally a weak signal could be picked up farther out. So to play it safe he had to stay at least five to seven miles off Jamaica’s northern coast as they made their way east to Rio Bueno. When they had to approach within that radius, well, then things would begin to happen.