Off Track: An Off Series Novella

by Glen Robins

  “After several months without any work, a man approached me and my crew as we half-heartedly cleaned Sir Henry yet again. He called me over to a shady area under a tree near the entrance of the marina, the same place where I would later meet Collin Cook. He and I spoke at length, out of earshot of my employees. He said he had some work for me, but that it involved risk.

  “‘Just how much risk are we talking about?’ I asked.

  “‘Enough risk to make it worth this.’ The man handed me a thick envelope. I didn’t need to open it and count. I knew there was enough in there to feed me and my crew for months. ‘This is the down payment. You get another stack of cash like this when the job is completed.’

  “I was no dummy. I knew what he wanted me to do, and it gave me pause. Breaking the law was not only immoral, but it was also hazardous. Many stories had been told of those who smuggled drugs. Pirates, enforcers, red herrings—those boats used as decoys to occupy law enforcement—and naval patrols were just some of the perils out there. Some smugglers never returned. Others came back missing hands or feet or with severe damage to their vessel, the cost of interfering with someone else’s territory.

  “I looked at my men toiling at a meaningless task as I listened to this man’s proposition. They were like sons to me—and they were languishing, wasting away in the doldrums of a bad economy. I thought about my accounts. They were empty. Without the down payment money in the envelope, I knew I could not even afford fuel to fill my tanks. I squinted into the sun, looking out over the vast ocean, calculating the odds, weighing the morality of letting my men suffer for want of food versus merely being a cog in the supply chain for goods that were viewed by some as entertainment. Which was more wrong?

  “The man gave me a long, cold stare. ‘You will do it, yes? You will run out of money very soon, will you not?’

  “This man had done his homework. He seemed to know too much about me. I mulled over my choices. There was no good response. Saying ‘yes’ would turn me and my crew into criminals. Saying ‘no’ could seal our doom.

  “My options were very limited. I returned the man’s cold stare as I nodded my head, full of reluctance and dread. Sometimes a man has to do things he would rather not do for the good of those he cares about.”

  I half expect some sort of judgement or condemnation to come from these two, but nothing happens. Their faces show me that they are following my story with great concern. They are sympathetic and not put off. They stay quiet while I take a sip from the Coke bottle before I continue.

  “I gave my crew the details about what I had been asked to do and the option of whether to stay or go. They all opted to stay onboard and assume the risk, knowing that things were desperate and knowing that I would never turn to crime if there was an alternative.

  “Our first two runs were uneventful and earned us $50,000. My crew and I lived well for many months on half that—almost a full year, in fact. Maybe we could have waited out the recession with what remained. We will never know, thanks to a band of pirates.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Lukas.

  “A band of pirates? Are you being serious right now, Captain Sewell?” said Rob, wagging his head in disbelief.

  “Yes, there are modern-day pirates who roam the Caribbean still. They will loot and plunder, just like the pirates of old you read about in stories. These men are territorial and suspicious as well as opportunistic. Many of them are essentially freelance smugglers, bounty hunters, or fugitives always looking for a way to pad their pockets and take what they have not earned. They boarded my boat, ransacked it, found the stores of cash I had onboard and took it. I believe that is what saved our lives.”

  “How did they know you had cash?” Rob asks.

  “I don’t believe they knew. They approached my boat as my crew and I were heading toward The Bahamas in search of new clientele. I was not as familiar with the area or the locals. I was unaware of marauders in the area. Out of the blue, this speed boat approached. He must have come from a cove on one of the small islands we passed by. As I later learned, they kept coming because they saw that we were unarmed. That’s why they were so bold.”

  “You’re kidding me,” says Rob. “How would they know you were unarmed?”

  “Because, what I learned to do was show my firearms when a speed boat like that approaches. It scares them off. They want to take things the easy way, no shooting, you see.”

  I stand and hold out one finger to ask for a moment. I step down into the cabin. When I return, I have a Remington 783 30-caliber bolt-action long-barreled rifle with a Vortex Viper PST II 5-25 x 50 scope attached to it cradled in my right arm.

  “This keeps them away.” I say this with a hint of pride. “I learned the hard way to keep several weapons on board. I also have a Ruger American and a Marlin X7 belowdecks.”

  Lukas nods his head in appreciation. He apparently knows his firearms. Rob looks stunned and impressed. He lets out a whistle.

  “I like this one the best,” I say. “It’s mean-looking, it’s accurate, and I’m most comfortable with it. It’s also very reliable and easy to disassemble and clean.”

  I take another sip of my Coke as I sit back down with the rifle laid across my knees. “I digress,” I say as I pat the stock of my Remington. “Let’s see, where was I?”

  “You were talking about pirates,” says Rob.

  “No, you were just about to tell us how the unnamed man pressured you into doing the third job,” Lukas insists.

  “Yes, so I was,” I say. “But don’t you worry, Mr. Howell, I’m not done with my pirate encounter. I shall finish that part of the story soon.” I adjust things. It doesn’t feel right to carry on a friendly conversation with a rifle on my lap, so I put it back where it belongs. When I return, I continue to tell them about how I accepted the third assignment under extreme pressure even though I would rather not have taken it.

  “This third job came several months after that incident, which, I believe, was meant to scare me away from a life of crime. I lost my boat in that incident with the pirates, which shook me to the core. The unnamed man knew this already. He also knew that I had a newer, faster sailboat.

  “‘You had a scare,’ he said with a knowing look. ‘I can understand your reluctance. However, you will be more prepared from now on, yes? Experience is the best teacher. That’s why I think you and your crew are the perfect candidates.’”

  “‘I was warned,’ I said to the unnamed man. ‘And we were lucky to escape with our lives. Never tempt fate is what I was taught. It would be suicide to do so.’”

  “‘You can’t stop now,’ the man told me. ‘You’ve proven yourself reliable and trustworthy. Qualities not often found in our business. My bosses and I value such qualities. So much so, we will pay you five times what we have paid you thus far for one final job. That’s it. One final job.’”

  “When I tried again to resist, he added a word of caution about knowing where my sisters and my brother lived and worked. He knew about my nieces and nephews. Not only that, he said he also knew where the girlfriends and mothers and siblings of my crew lived and worked. It was an ominous threat, though a veiled one.

  “Third time is supposed to be a charm, I thought to myself. Success had emboldened me, making me give in much more easily than I should have. Our first two runs had been the easiest $50,000 I had ever made. When I tried again to turn down the offer to do this third job, the man shook his finger at me and reiterated his warning. Now my gut was telling me I should run. But I didn’t. Maybe it was greed. Maybe it was foolish pride. Or fear. In any case, I agreed to do one last job for this man whose name I did not know and didn’t want to. The money—more than any of us had seen or would ever see at one time—promised to change our lives forever.”

  Chapter Five

  Three and a Half Years Before Meeting Collin Cook

  The Barcadere Marina, Grand Cayman Island

  I drain my Coke bottle and stand, holding it out and cocking my head to
ask without words if either of them wanted more. Rob follows suit, finishing the soda and handing me the bottle. Lukas waves his hand, indicating that he is good.

  As I return from belowdecks with two freshly opened bottles of Coke, I begin the next phase of my story. “Rarely do we realize our mistakes at the onset, but this time I did. I felt in my gut that I had, as you Americans say, ‘bit off more than I could chew.’ I was in over my head and I knew it. I also knew I could not get out of it. I was stuck in a bad situation.”

  I hand Rob his bottle and once again situate myself comfortably across from my two guests. I rest one leg over the other, lean back, and continue talking.

  “While listening to the unnamed man explain what would be involved in this third and last deal, something was niggling at me, staging a protest in front of my decision-making cortex. But alas, I crossed the little voice in my head, the screaming whisper that told me I should just walk away from the deal despite the threats.”

  “So, this man promises you that this would be the last thing he needs you to do, tells you you’re the perfect candidate to do it, but pressures you with threats to make sure you comply? Am I getting it all straight?” says Rob, shaking his head. “Incredible. And you believed him?”

  “I was in a strange place at that moment, I guess,” I say, holding my Coke bottle, examining its contents as I speak. “I was halfway between wanting to protect my crew and wanting to abandon caution and score big. I admit, the lure of money and the freedom it would buy was intoxicating. That and the fear that this man who I had never seen or heard of before our first encounter would and could make bad things happen to the people I cared about compelled me. It wasn’t exactly against my will at that point, but it wasn’t really what I wanted to do, either.”

  “It’s understandable,” says Lukas. He is neither critical nor empathetic, just analytical. His eyebrows are pulled together, and he is leaning forward as he speaks. “It’s so easy to get caught up in the moment. Sometimes you don’t realize that you’ve painted yourself in a corner until it’s too late.”

  “Yes, yes. That is a good way to put it. You see, in my mind I could not help but replay the memories of those pirates chasing us down, overpowering us, taking control of my boat, stealing everything of value from it while I watched helplessly. And if that wasn’t bad enough, they put me and my crew out in the dinghy as they set fire to my boat. I shall never forget that awful feeling of being stranded in the middle of the Caribbean, watching my boat burn from the confines of the twelve-foot rubber dinghy while those demonic pirates laughed and howled with delight. Things like that stir inside a man, they cause him to question everything about himself. Some may give in and succumb to defeat. Others, well, they may take it personally and set out to prove themselves all over again. No matter how a man may handle such a thing on the outside, on the inside, it will stick with him for the rest of his life. For me, those images and those feelings of vulnerability and hopelessness overwhelmed my mind like a hurricane’s tidal surge.”

  Rob and Lukas exchange a glance upon hearing this. Rob opens his mouth, bewilderment etching creases in his forehead and around his eyes.

  I hold up my hand. “Yes, being stripped of everything in front of those who look up to you can alter the way you make decisions, the way you view the world around you. For now, you must understand that violence and treachery seemed to be lurking in the shadows around me. At least, that’s how I felt. My boat had been taken from me. That’s a serious crime for someone like me. My life revolves around my boat. It is my home as well as my sole source of income. Being stranded at sea in a tiny little dinghy, watching helplessly while my boat burned, was tantamount to losing my wife and my child. That event undermined my confidence in a different way because it threatened my very existence. It is difficult to feel secure in the vast ocean with nothing but a rubber raft for protection. Equally, it is hard to fathom supporting yourself, let alone four other people, when your home and theirs is gone. It felt like punishment for all of my bad decisions.

  “At that moment, with the unnamed man scrutinizing my every reaction, I simultaneously feared a repeat of that awful day with the pirates and relished the chance at redemption. Part of me wanted to run and hide but the other part saw a way to prove that I was still a man, undaunted and undefeated. With those two competing desires, I listened carefully to the details as the man laid them out before me. The devil is always in the details, I had learned.

  “The deal itself was good—on paper. Two-hundred-fifty thousand US dollars for a roundtrip sail from George Town to Colombia to Jamaica and back to George Town. Retrieve a large shipment of drugs that would be deposited in shallow water and drop it off at a rendezvous point at sea, then return home as fast as I could. That was it. Pretty simple, eh?

  “I plotted my course on a map while the man spoke to me. Seven-hundred nautical miles each way. Sounded easy enough. With decent weather and enough wind, as the forecast predicted, it would be two days of sailing southward, six hours to do the work required, and another two or three days back. I knew it would be the most stressful week of my life, but I felt like there was no way around it. Plus, the reward was tantalizing.

  “Sure, there were many hazards to consider, including wind, waves, naval patrols, and, of course, pirates. But the rewards felt worth it.

  “There were other complicating factors, too. The technical nature of the work involved when we arrived off the coast of Colombia added to the complexity and, thus, the compensation. It would require new skills on the part of my crew members and new equipment that must be carried onboard. We would be slowed down by the extra weight, even while under time pressure to perform. I realized the risk was growing and becoming more than I had initially bargained for.

  “The lure of money and the man’s unspecified threats clouded my judgement and overruled my inner voice. It was a fool’s errand, but I was not in a position to refuse. Greed and fear can make anyone a fool, I suppose. Without the cash the pirates had stolen from me, I had hit rock-bottom. This man had given me the prospect of a permanent solution to my financial woes, a ‘home run,’ as you Americans would say. I felt responsible for my crew members. They, in turn, had people who depended on them. Because of my desire to fulfill my responsibility, I had plunged us all into an equation that had flipped completely. It was riskier now to walk away.

  “The trap had been set and we were caught. The only way to escape was to move forward.”

  “Wow,” says Rob. “I hadn’t thought of it like that. You really did take on a father figure role for these guys.”

  “Yes,” I say. “I loved them like sons and carried the burden of their well-being as if they were my own.”

  “It sounds like maybe the unnamed man knew this about you and used it against you,” says Lukas. He has a penetrating intellect that is also tuned into the emotional side of the human condition.

  “Not only that, he knew I was at heart an entrepreneur. Nothing is more compelling to an entrepreneur than control of his own destiny. The unnamed man presented me with the chance to control my destiny. ‘$250,000 can change your life, no? Help your men? Solve your problems?’”

  I sigh and shake my head. “It sounded good, but I had to confirm. ‘This is it. I do this last run for you, then I’m out? You’ll not come again asking for more?’”

  “‘That is our agreement,’ he said to me. ‘You are free from further obligation after this. You will not see me again. Nor will you ever hear from me again. I promise.’

  “‘What about your associates? Your bosses or their lieutenants?’ I asked.

  “‘This,’ he says, ‘is a short-lived opportunity, an opening that will soon close. My bosses are not drug lords. They are businessmen, financiers with nowhere to place their money in the current economy, so they are taking advantage of a delicate situation. They need a major score to avoid disaster, just like you do. Understand?’”

  “‘Completely,’ I tell him.

  “I think the m
an sensed that about me. I was no criminal, either. I was a businessman taking advantage of an opening, too. ‘But who are these men?’

  “‘They may be unlikely narco kingpins, but they share the same ruthless focus on success. They are highly educated, highly motivated, and extremely clever. Not at all the type of people who typically peddle drugs. The risks they take are carefully calculated. This is a short-term investment. Hedging is the term they often use.’”

  “‘Hedging?’ I said, raising an eyebrow at the man.

  “‘Yes,’ he says. ‘It means they are mitigating risk, both in terms of getting the most out of their capital investment while also minimizing the risks of landing in prison. Choosing you was the lowest risk option they have with the time available.’

  “‘I’m part of their risk calculation?’ I say to him.

  “‘Indeed,’ he says, looking bemused. ‘Keep that in mind. I advise you not to go snooping around, looking for clues as to their identities or whereabouts. It would not be wise.’

  “‘Do not worry yourself about such things,’ I said. ‘That is the furthest thing from my mind, I assure you.’

  “He raised an eyebrow at me, a menacing look that sent chills down my spine. There was a darkness about this man’s demeanor. His posture, his icy stare, his clipped cadence all spelled trouble for anyone foolish enough to cross him. I did not want to be such a fool.

  “I nodded slowly and with as much confidence as I could muster. It must have been sufficient, for he quickly turned my attention to the urgent business of scheduling the kick-off meeting for our operation. He promised to give me the full scope then. Every detail of this mission had been meticulously planned, he said, to minimize the chances of failure.

  “He scrawled an address on a matchbook and handed it to me. ‘Assemble your men at this location after sundown.’