Sins in the Sun: A Vigilante Series crime thriller

by Claude Bouchard

Oliver gazed back at Chris and sighed. “What you say is true but it may be the sacrifice I must make to continue enjoying life with my family.”

  “I don’t know,” Chris replied. “I’m sure I could deal with this if I gave it a little thought and got some help from some colleagues.”

  “Be reasonable, my friend,” Oliver argued. “I know you are an intelligent, fit and wealthy man but do you believe this qualifies you to take on a well-connected criminal? As you said yourself, Gomez is a mobster, not a teenage bully.”

  “I’ve dealt with security and criminal issues throughout my career,” Chris replied. “And believe me when I tell you I’m also very well-connected. I’ll contact some people at a government agency I work with, we’ll look into this carefully and quietly and determine the best way to handle the situation. Trust me on this, Oliver. I know my way around guys like Gomez and I really am in a position to help.”

  Oliver eyed Chris, his expression a mix of curiosity and relief. “This sounds mysterious and is quite unexpected but, of course I trust you, Chris. I do appreciate any help you can offer.”

  “Then it’s settled,” said Chris. “Keep this to yourself, both of you. I’ll make some calls to get some research going on Gomez and we’ll take it from there.”

  “Will these people contact our police?” asked Oliver. “There is much corruption in the Dominican Republic and Gomez is known to be very well connected.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Chris replied. “If they need to deal with the local authorities, they’ll make sure to have a safe contact. These folks are pros.”

  “I almost feel like I’m suddenly in a spy novel,” said Oliver. “Should I be doing anything to help you?”

  “First of all, rest and get better,” Chris replied. “Next, how well do you trust Raphael, your security director?”

  “There are few people I trust more,” said Oliver. “Raphael has headed security at the last three resorts I’ve managed.”

  Chris nodded. “Good to know. Call him and ask that his team tone it down a little with any of Gomez’s escorts who show up. I wouldn’t mind having Gomez think his intimidation worked, at least to some degree.”

  “Raphael will want to know the reason for my request,” said Oliver. “If I tell him, he may go find Gomez and give him a beating of his own.”

  “That’s no good,” said Chris. “Tell Raphael you suspect your attack may have been related but have no proof and the matter is being investigated.”

  “I’ll convince him,” Oliver replied. “Anything else?”

  “It might be a good idea to get a reliable security guy or two here for the next few days,” Chris suggested. “I doubt Gomez would do anything more for now unless you provoked him but I don’t want you to take any chances.”

  “This is something I intended to do,” Oliver agreed. “Raphael will find the appropriate people.”

  “Excellent,” said Chris. “One last thing. A few people will likely come down for this within a couple of days so they’ll need a place to stay.”

  “That is not a problem,” said Oliver. “I will make sure they have rooms at the Ventura.”

  “I believe that covers it for now,” said Chris. “By the way, you surely remember the people who’ve come with us a few times, Jonathan, Dave and Leslie?”

  Oliver smiled. “Of course, with Cathy, Josée and Dominique. Charming people.”

  Chris winked and said, “Jon, Dave and Les are the folks I work with at the agency I mentioned.”

  “You are full of surprises, my friend,” Oliver exclaimed. “I will make sure they have suites.”

  * * * *

  Montreal, Canada, early afternoon

  Jonathan Addley smiled as he glanced at the call display and hit the ‘hands free’ button. “You better not be calling to complain about the heat in Puerto Plata, buddy. We’re in the middle of our first blizzard of the season here.”

  “That comment hurts, Jon,” Chris replied. “I would never complain about the weather over here. It’s marvelous. Sorry to hear about the snowstorm, by the way.”

  The two men had met in 1997, shortly after Chris had made a fortune as the result of a lucrative business deal. Though only thirty-two at the time, Chris’ intention had been to limit his future business activities to personal investing and board directorship positions he held. The rest of his time would be devoted to pursuing personal interests, travelling and enjoying life with Sandy, his wife.

  Though he had succeeded in respecting his intentions for the most part, a portion of his time over the last eighteen years had ended up being occupied by a part time career of sorts. Impressed by certain particular accomplishments of Chris’, Jonathan had convinced him to join Discreet Activities, a little known agency he headed within Canada’s Ministry of Defence. Clandestine in nature, the small, elite team’s purpose was to deal with criminal and other undesired activity, often via unconventional means.

  “Yeah, I’m sure you feel terrible,” said Jon. “What’s up?”

  “I’d need you to get me a current file on Pedro Gomez in D.R.,” Chris replied.

  “Can’t you take some vacation time anywhere without getting mixed up with the local bad guys?” asked Jonathan.

  “That was my intention,” said Chris then related the details of the incident with Oliver.

  “That sucks,” said Jonathan once Chris was done. “Let me see what we can dig up and I’ll get back to you in a bit. Give my regards to Oliver.”

  “Will do,” Chris replied. “Thanks, Jon, and be careful on your way home. The roads might be slippery.”

  “Bite me,” said Jonathan before disconnecting the call.

  Chapter 3 – Tuesday, December 9, 2014

  Playa Dorada, Puerto Plata, Dominican Republic, mid-morning

  Chris grinned as he watched Sandy almost strutting to whatever tune her earbuds delivered as she powerwalked along the beach a few steps ahead of him. His own current slice of audio entertainment, Led Zeppelin’s Custard Pie, faded out as a call came in.

  “Good morning, Jon,” he answered after glancing at the phone. Hearing him speak, Sandy flashed him a smile and wave over her shoulder then broke into an easy jog, leaving him to his conversation.

  “Morning, Chris,” said Jonathan. “Is this a good time?”

  “No problem,” Chris replied. “Strolling in the sand to burn off some breakfast excesses.”

  “I get it,” said Jonathan. “You don’t want to look chubby in your Speedo.”

  Chris laughed and replied, “Based on what I’m seeing around here, being chubby is a requirement to wear a Speedo so I’ll have to stick to my shorts.”

  “It’s probably for the best,” said Jon. “Anyhow, as fascinating a subject men’s beachwear is, I was calling about Pedro Gomez. Are you up for that?”

  “Give me what you’ve got,” Chris replied, settling into a beach chair in the shade of a vacant palapa.

  “He’s never been to Canada,” Jonathan began. “So there’s nothing on file except for a listing in the database as a foreign suspect in organized crime. He has been to the U.S. on several occasions but never ran into any trouble. He is being monitored by the DEA on suspicions of cocaine trafficking from Colombia but they have yet to pin anything on the man. Recent information from the Dominican Republic is pretty sketchy so our best bet will be to talk to someone there.”

  “Any ideas on who we could approach?” asked Chris.

  “I started by giving Nick a call,” Jonathan replied, referring to Nick Sharp, RCMP Commanding Officer for the province of Quebec. “I remembered him being involved with some training of the police force in the Dominican Republic a couple of years ago so I figured he might have a decent contact for me. As it turns out, he did.”

  “Way to go,” said Chris. “Care to share who this contact is?”

  “I’d be happy to,” Jon replied. “None other than Miguel Ortega, the Deputy Director and second in command of the National Police. He’s the chief operations guy
, the immediate superior of the five regional directors and also heads the anti-narcotics task force which was implement two years ago.”

  “That’s excellent,” Chris approved. “I’m guessing he can dig up some information on Gomez?”

  “Even better than that,” said Jonathan. “He knows Gomez personally and hates him with a passion.”

  “That sounds good to me,” said Chris. “Did he share any details as to why?”

  “Nothing specific yet,” Jonathan replied. “He’ll cover everything when we meet him this afternoon.”

  Chris laughed and said, “Uh, we?”

  “Right, I forgot to mention that,” said Jonathan. “Although this isn’t an official assignment, I figured you might want some backup and Josée thought she’d hang out with Sandy so we’re at the airport. We’ll be boarding any minute and should be landing in Puerto Plata at two-thirty local time. Can you have someone pick us up?”

  “I’ll have Roberto waiting for you,” Chris replied. “While we’re at it, will you need a place to stay?”

  “If you could set that up, it would be great,” said Jonathan.

  “Oliver already reserved a few suites, just in case,” said Chris. “I’ll make sure one is ready for you. Anything else?”

  “Ortega offered to come meet us at the resort around four o’clock,” Jonathan replied. “You might want to let security know we’ll be expecting a guest.”

  “No problem,” said Chris. “I’ll look after it.”

  “Sounds good,” said Jonathan as an announcement was heard in the background. “Boarding time, buddy. See you in about five hours.”

  * * * *

  Ventura Grande, Puerto Plata, Dominican Republic, 4:06 p.m.

  “Something to drink, Miguel?” Chris offered as they walked out onto the rooftop terrace of the penthouse suite.

  “Rum on ice,” replied Ortega then added with a smile, “Brugal, if you have it.”

  Chris smiled back before heading to the outside bar. “XV is all I can offer. Jon?”

  “Sounds good to me,” said Jonathan as he and Ortega sat at the table.

  “Here we go,” said Chris, returning with a tray loaded with three old fashioned glasses, an ice bucket and a bottle of rum. “Help yourselves.”

  “I am liking you gentlemen already,” said Ortega, pouring himself a healthy shot before passing the bottle on to Jonathan.

  “I’m pleased to hear that,” said Chris, “Because we can certainly use your help to learn as much as we can about Pedro Gomez.”

  Ortega’s expression darkened as he replied, “I will be happy to provide any assistance I can to cause that animal misery.”

  “I sense your desire to help is not strictly on a professional basis,” Jonathan commented.

  “You are absolutely right,” Ortega confirmed. “It is only my professional, how do you say, ethic, which has kept me from killing Gomez over the years. My sobrina, my niece, Ramona, disappeared five years ago and is likely dead. We were never able to prove it but I am certain Gomez was responsible and I have made it my duty to make him somehow pay.”

  “I’m sorry to hear about your niece,” said Chris. “What happened? Why do you suspect Gomez?”

  “I have known Gomez most of my life,” Ortega replied. “We are of the same age, thirty-six, and we both grew up in the same neighbourhood of Santiago. As a child, Gomez was a troublemaker and was involved in crime before the age of ten. Vandalism, shoplifting, breaking into cars, homes and businesses, nothing was too risky to intimidate him. With time, he built up his gang, got into protection rackets and running what he called hotels which were really bordellos. It’s no secret there is much corruption in our country so, as Gomez’s affairs flourished, he made sure to have proper police and other contacts to support him, for a fee, of course.

  “We are also convinced of his involvement in narcotics, a high risk crime in our country, but we have never succeeded in proving anything. The same is true with human trafficking which ties in well with his brothels. Much suspicion but no proof, even when it came to Ramona.”

  He took a healthy swallow of his drink and breathed out a sigh before continuing. “As a child, Ramona was beautiful and people would say, ‘She will break many hearts when she is older.’ This was the truth because by the time she was fifteen, she was gorgeous and already looked like a woman. As with many teenagers, she was also looking for fun and adventure and, with her looks, she had little trouble finding either. My sister, Jacinta, was a single mother and did her very best but Ramona remained defiant, enjoying the increasing attention she was getting.

  “Ramona and I always got along very well so I chatted with her when I visited, warning her to be careful but she would simply laugh, hug me and tell me not to worry. Shortly after her sixteenth birthday, Jacinta called to tell me she believed Ramona was working as a prostitute for Gomez. At the time, I was regional director for the Northern Zone based in Santiago and my sister hoped Gomez would be impressed enough by my position to back away from Ramona.

  “I went to see Gomez and informed him my niece was no longer to work for him and his failure to cooperate would force me to make his life a living hell. He smiled and told me this was a shame since Ramona was likely his best employee and much appreciated by his guests. However, he would respect my request and promised me she would never work for him again.

  “The following week, Jacinta called, worried sick because Ramona had not been home for a couple of days. I calmed her down but by evening, there was still no sign of my niece so I returned to see Gomez. Again with a smile, he told me Ramona no longer worked for him, as per my request. He then suggested she might have gone to work elsewhere, perhaps even in another city or country, and wished me luck in finding her. When I insisted he knew where she was, he ordered two of his men to show me out as I was no longer welcome. As I left, he called out, telling me he would give Ramona my regards if he ever saw her again though he doubted he would.”

  “That’s terrible,” said Jonathan. “You obviously had her disappearance investigated.”

  “Yes, of course,” Ortega confirmed. “But no indication of what had happened to her or where she had gone was ever found. Gomez is very careful to keep his hands clean when it comes down to serious crimes and those who work for him know well enough to keep their mouths shut. A few who didn’t along the way also ended up disappearing or were found dead before they could do him any harm. His men are paid well to take risks and to do whatever is necessary to make him appear unassociated with his significant illicit activities.”

  “It’s never easy but the top guys make mistakes too,” said Chris. “Gomez can’t be running what seems to be a pretty big organization without getting some dirt on him.”

  “The problem is, he has been concentrating on fairly legal activities in the last year,” Ortega replied, “Dedicating his time on growing his network of brothels, these so-called adult-only resorts. I considered giving him a hard time with these, perhaps even arresting him under our prostitution laws but my superior, though he would also love to see Gomez rot in jail, insisted it would be a wasted effort and he was correct. Some of our countries most respected judges have been known to be Gomez’s guests.”

  “What about his involvement in narcotics?” asked Jonathan. “As you suggested, that is a serious crime here. What exactly do you suspect him of?”

  “Nothing at the present time,” Ortega admitted, frowning with frustration. “Although I am certain at least some of his investment capital for his resort expansion is the fruit of past drug deals. You may be aware that Honduras has increased pressure against narcotics in recent years, substantially cutting down the flow of cocaine through Central America and Mexico. As a result, much more of Colombia’s production is coming through the Caribbean on its way to the United States and Europe and my country has been getting its share.”

  “And you suspect Gomez was somehow involved?” asked Chris.

  “I have no doubt,” Ortego confirmed. “We kn
ow he met with several people from Venezuela and the United States on a number of occasions. These were people who were being closely monitored by the Venezuelan authorities and the DEA. Gomez’s regular meetings with them supported our suspicions and shipments on fast boats were seized on three separate occasions. The men arrested were known to work for Gomez but most denied his involvement, stating they were working on their own. Two suggested they might be able to supply information implicating Gomez in exchange for leniency. Although they were put in protective custody, both were dead by the next morning.”

  “Is that why Gomez pulled out?” asked Jonathan. “Because he knew you were onto him?”

  Ortega shook his head and smiled. “No, such a minor detail would not be enough to shake him up. What happened is the organization he was dealing with unfortunately ran into some difficulties. Their distribution network, believed to be the biggest in North America, was completely dismantled in a series of raids last year.”

  Jonathan and Chris exchanged glances as the latter spoke. “I take it you’re referring to the Devil’s Delight?”

  “Ah, so you are familiar with them,” Ortega replied. “Nick Sharp mentioned you were with a government agency in your country but did not elaborate. You are with an anti-drug squad, or perhaps an organized crime unit?”

  “We’re with a small, relatively unknown agency within the Ministry of Defence,” Jonathan explained, choosing his words carefully. “We specialize, not so much in specific crime sectors but rather, in particular crime solving methods.”

  Ortega eyed them shrewdly for a moment then broke into a smile. “You are men who get the job done. I would certainly be happy to assist you anyway I can to make Gomez pay for his crimes. May I ask what brought him to your attention in the first place?”

  Chris related the details surrounding the ongoing prostitution issues at the Ventura Grande, ending with the severe beating Oliver Lomas had received two days prior.

  “Bastardo,” Ortega muttered in disgust. “That has always been the way of Gomez. He has always been a bully, taking pleasure in making others suffer for his own benefit. As a result, people have been hurt, a number are dead while he gets richer and more powerful. I sometimes wonder if he will ever be stopped. I certainly have not succeeded so far.”