Leeward

by D. Edward Bradley

  “Hans! Did they get you too?”

  Hans put a finger to his lips and whispered. “Not on your life. I just broke in.”

  “Broke in?” Jon sat on the bed bewildered. “What on earth for? Are you crazy? The place has been taken over by the police, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  Hans overlooked the sarcasm. Jon was obviously upset, and rightly so.

  “Jon, I came here because I have to find out what’s going on, and let Anna know. I spent some hours watching the hotel from the sugar canes with my binoculars, and I could see that the police have occupied it. Have you all been arrested? Are there any charges? Tell me everything, and make it fast so I can leave without getting caught.”

  Jon quickly explained the situation at the hotel, emphasizing that the police had threatened to shoot anyone attempting to escape. As he did so, an idea took shape in his mind. “I’ve been thinking, there’s nothing to prevent me coming with you, is there?”

  “I suppose not,” replied Hans.

  “The idea is to get back to Boston if I possibly can. I’m really worried about Josie.”

  “And you miss her,” Hans added with a smile. “So what are we waiting for? Let’s go.”

  “Not so fast, Hans. How are we going to do this? There are men on patrol outside, and guards all over the building.”

  “We both go out the window. It’s only a single story drop to a nice soft flower bed. I’ll go first, then you can use my shoulders. There’s no point in both of us risking a sprained ankle or something.”

  “We’ll be taking a big chance with the guards,” Jon whispered. “Let’s wait until a patrol passes, and leave as soon as he’s out of the way.”

  “Okay. But we’d better turn the lights off first.”

  The moon was quite high in the sky, but the cover en route to Mrs. Robinson’s would virtually eliminate the risk of being spotted. Once on her property, they could go a little way up the path through the canes, and plan their next move. These thoughts slipped through Hans’ mind as he watched for a guard. It was another five long minutes before one passed. Jon opened the window silently. Hans clambered through. He hung by his hands on the window ledge for a moment before letting go, then landed with a thump. Jon worried for a few seconds in case he was hurt, but Hans gave thumbs up and stood under the window. Ten minutes later they reached the path through the sugar canes.

  “Phew!” exclaimed Jon. “I’m glad that’s over. I was expecting a bullet in the back at any moment.”

  “Hang on while I get my backpack and the gun. I hid them just inside the canes.”

  This gave Jon’s mind a chance to wind down a little, and he wondered what to do next. If they could get to a phone, he could call Boston. That was the answer—get to a phone and ask Josie and the Judge to drum up some outside help.

  When Hans returned, Jon told him his plan.

  “And I’ll call Anna at the German Consulate,” Hans added. “Surely she’s persuaded her office to do something by now. But the problem is, where can we find a phone?”

  “I don’t know.” Jon thought for a moment. “Just a minute, there’s one right here in Mrs. Robinson’s house! Why on earth didn’t I think of it before? She knows me well, and I’m sure she’ll help if we don’t frighten her to death.”

  A short time later, they arrived at the front door. As soon as Jon pressed the bell-push, Ruffles, the Doberman, started barking. Several lights came on, including the one in the porch where they stood, and after a minute or so the front door opened on the chain lock.

  “Why Jon! What are you doing here?” said a surprised Mrs. Robinson.

  Ruffles tried to open the door some more.

  “It’s a long story,” Jon replied. “The police have put everyone at Leeward under house arrest, but it’s all a mistake. I managed to escape, and Hans here has been hiding in the forest. He’s one of the hotel guests. We need to use your phone to get outside help.”

  “You’d better come in.” Mrs. Robinson closed the door after them, and turned off the outside light. “I’ll get some tea in the kitchen while you help yourselves to the phone. Jon knows where it is. I saw a lot of activity at Leeward this morning, so I called up Norton Grinder. He told me all about it. Your godparents are being framed if you ask me.”

  Jon led Hans to the heavily furnished living room, and they turned on a table light so they could see to dial.

  “I’ll try Boston first.”

  “Go ahead,” said Hans. “I’ll put my stuff in the hall.”

  Jon dialed Judge Winchester’s house, but after a single ring, a recording clicked on, “We are sorry, the number you have dialed is no longer in service.” Then he tried the apartment. This time the number rang. He let it go on for a full minute, but there was no answer from Josie.

  Hans returned. “Is there a problem?”

  “Judge Winchester’s line is out of service, and there’s no answer from our apartment. I don’t like it.”

  “Why don’t I try Anna while you’re deciding what to do?”

  Hans dialed the German Consulate number, which he had memorized. He was listening to a recorded message in German, when someone picked up the phone but remained silent.

  “Hello, this is Hans Wetzlar. Is—”

  “Thank God!” Anna’s voice sounded strident, stressed. “Hans, where are you? I’ve been worried sick!”

  “I’m at Mrs. Robinson’s, next door to the hotel.”

  “God! Isn’t that risky?”

  “Nowhere near as risky as my other activities.”

  “Hans, there’s something I have to explain. The Seakers found out more than I told you, and we are both in great danger. In a nutshell, control of the St. Barbe’s Government and police force has been taken over by an international drug cartel, or something even worse. I believe the police found out that the Seakers knew this, and killed them. They might also think the Callunas are involved, which means that everyone at Leeward could be at risk as well.”

  Hans was visibly shaken although the revelation didn’t affect the current situation directly. He was angry that Anna hadn’t told him earlier, but she probably didn’t want to worry him. There would be time enough to discuss it later.

  “But what about your firm? Can’t they do anything? They should at least try to get you off the island.”

  “That’s what I thought, so I called Thibald and Sörnsen as soon as I got here, and asked for a senior partner, Olaf Larsen. I explained I was effectively a prisoner here, and would he please make arrangements to get me off the island. He said he would pull some strings to put something together through the Hanley Agency, but the Caribbean wasn’t the easiest place to mount any kind of intervention, diplomatic or otherwise. Then I talked to Hedi and asked her to keep things rolling if she could. She called me back today, and said she was convinced that no one had done anything. In fact, she didn’t think the other directors had even been told. I tried Larsen again, but he was conveniently out of town for a few days.”

  “Couldn’t you contact Miami yourself?” asked Hans.

  “I did. They said they were unable act without orders from Stockholm, so I decided to take matters into my own hands.”

  “And what did you do?”

  “I spoke to the top man here at the Consulate, Werner Kleinschmidt. He rather fancies me I think. Apparently the Consulate has a contract with a local air charter service, which rents out a couple of Cessnas. He often flies one to Antigua or Barbados on official business. He’s going to Antigua tomorrow, and should be able to smuggle me out without any difficulty.”

  “That would improve things considerably. You’d be in a much better position to do something, but I can’t imagine what.”

  Jon listened impatiently to one side of the conversation. “Let me speak to Anna,” he said.

  Hans handed over the receiver.

  “Hi, Anna. This is Jon. It would be a great help to me if you could call Josie or Judge Winchester as soon as you can. If you can’t get hold of
either of them, you could try the Judge’s friend in the Boston Police, Marshall Thompson, or—”

  “Just a moment,” Anna interrupted. “I have a better idea.” She quickly told Jon about Kleinschmidt. “Maybe I can persuade him to take all three of us.”

  Jon looked at Hans. “Anna wants to get us both to Antigua.”

  Hans took back the phone. “Anna, I don’t think it’s a good idea to just abandon the Callunas and the Barkers, especially after what you’ve told me. One person should remain here on the outside, and that person is obviously me. When the police find out you’ve gone, they’ll assume I’ve gone with you since I’m supposed to be at the Consulate too. Why don’t you just take Jon? He has his Boston contacts, though I doubt if they can do much to help.”

  “I had hoped we’d be together soon,” replied Anna. “But perhaps you’re right.” She paused for a moment. “Now let’s see. Jon will need to get to a secluded place where we can pick him up on the way to the airport. I can’t contact Werner at this time of night, so I’ll speak to him first thing in the morning as soon as he gets to the office. Tell Jon to phone this number around ten o’clock. By that time, I’ll have something set up.”

  “I wish I were coming with you,” said Hans.

  “So do I,” replied Anna, and hung up.

  Hans turned to Jon and relayed Anna’s instructions. “We’ll have to figure out how to get you to the airport,” he concluded.

  While they were having tea with Mrs. Robinson, Jon thanked her for her help.

  “Nonsense, young man,” she replied. “There are things happening on the island that scare me. I never liked the Prime Minister. He’s no good, and I’ll bet he’s behind this business.”

  Jon suddenly realized how tired he was. “Could we possibly rest here for a couple of hours? We’ll leave before daybreak and hide in the canes.”

  “Of course you can, and there’s no need to rush away. Why don’t you use the living room? It’s very comfortable.” Mrs. Robinson got up. “I’m not used to this midnight plotting. I’m going back to bed. Come on Ruffles.” The Doberman followed her down a dark passage to her bedroom, and the two men settled into matching, overstuffed chairs.

  “I don’t think I’ll sleep much,” said Hans.

  “Me neither,” replied Jon. “But I’m getting an idea about transport to the airport. Maybe Norton Grinder would take me. And by the way, we mustn’t forget to ask him if he’s had any luck with the walkie-talkies. Norton told Rodney he might be able to get a pair.”

  “I’d forgotten about that. Let’s get him out of bed and see what he says.”

  Everything worked out amazingly well. Norton Grinder reported that he now had two long-range portable radios at the store, plus a supply of batteries. “I’ll be up to Mrs. Robinson’s in a few minutes. Jon Moresby, sir, I’m going to take you and Mr. Wetzlar to Rodney’s brother Joshua’s place. He’s very worried about the family and would be happy to help. I can’t drive you to the airport myself, but maybe Joshua will take you on the back of his motor bike. I’ll think of a way to get a radio to Peter Calluna tomorrow.”

  While they were waiting for Norton Grinder, Hans told a disbelieving Jon about his experiences in the rain forest. “Just to prove it I’ve got the diskette in my pocket.” He waved it in Jon’s face. “Why don’t you take it to Antigua? We won’t get anywhere near a computer on St. Barbe’s. Stick it in your pocket now, and whatever you do don’t lose it.”

  “I’ll guard it with my life,” Jon replied. “I wonder what on earth’s on it.”

  At that moment Grinder’s beetle ground to a halt outside, and the two of them went to the front door.

  The store man gave Hans a walkie-talkie and a box of batteries.

  Hans examined the radio. “We can’t thank you enough.”

  “Come on both of you,” said Grinder. “You’ll feel better when you’re at Joshua’s. He’ll be pleased to see you again, Mr. Moresby.”

  At this point, Ruffles started barking, so Jon found Mrs. Robinson’s room and knocked on the door. He called out that they were leaving with Norton Grinder, and thanked her for her help.

  On the way to Saddles, Grinder continued. “I’ve just had an idea how to get a walkie-talkie to Mr. Calluna tomorrow. I’ll stash it in a bag of flour along with the batteries, then deliver it first thing with the groceries. Leeward always orders from me, and I’ll make sure Mr. C gets to receive the goods personally by demanding his signature, which I don’t normally do. He’ll guess there’s something hidden inside. Apart from that I can’t do much more. I’ve got my business to think about, see, and if the cops found out I was aiding and abetting suspects, they could easily close down the store. It’s my life, I’ve nothing else.”

  “You’ve done more than enough, Mr. Grinder,” said Hans.

  “I wouldn’t mind being a spy, like. You know, keep my eyes and ears open. And there’s my phone, I might be able to pass on messages.”

  Hans promised to bear this in mind as they arrived at the tiny house where Joshua Barker lived on his own. It was at the end of a lane running down to Leeward Bay. Before Jon had time to get out of the beetle, the front door flew open, and a tall bearded man strode over; he looked very much like his brother, Rodney.

  “What the hell? You’re supposed to be a prisoner, Mr. Moresby.”

  Jon got out of the car. “Not any more, and I need your help.”

  Half an hour later, after getting the full story, Joshua committed himself to doing all he could. Jon would phone Anna from the store next morning, and they would take it from there.

  “Remember, I’ve got the boat,” said Joshua. “It would be a bit of a squash, but I could probably get everyone off the island in one trip.”

  Jon shook his head. “And get sunk by a police launch? It’s a noble thought, Joshua, but we wouldn’t dream of letting you take such a risk.”

  The night seemed endless. Jon and Hans slept on the floor in the living room, which doubled as a kitchen. After a fish breakfast, which they ate greedily, Joshua and Jon went to the store on Joshua’s motor bike. Jon contacted Anna about being picked up near the airport for the flight to Antigua, and she quickly outlined a much improved plan. He would join her on the plane as soon as Kleinschmidt had taxied it to the end of the runway where it couldn’t be seen. Jon could get past the perimeter fence at a pond. Fortunately, Joshua knew where it was.

  For Jon and Hans, the day seemed as long as the night, but eventually it got dark. Soon after seven o’clock, Joshua took Jon to a gravel road which circled the airport complex just outside the chain link fence. They headed west, parallel to the short runway allocated to light aircraft. In the pale moonlight Jon could see where it ended in a circle of asphalt. The pond was about a fifty yards further on. As they approached, he saw that the chain link fence came to an end about six feet into the water.

  Joshua stopped the motor bike and turned off the engine. “This is the place. You can get round the end of the fence by wading. It’s shallow, but you might want to take off your shoes and roll up your pants first.”

  “That’s great, Joshua!” Jon was getting wound up. “Don’t forget, as soon as Ms. Andersson and I reach Antigua, we’ll leave a phone number with Norton Grinder. We can all keep in touch, and Anna and I will try and arrange to get everyone away from Leeward.”

  Joshua started the engine and drove off. It didn’t take long for Jon to find a hiding place in some low bushes just inside the airport property. Within minutes, a plane started to taxi from the far end of the runway, its landing lights flickering in the hot air rising from the tarmac. It was just approaching the turning circle when the lights flashed off and on, and Jon prepared to make his move. As the plane turned slowly into the wind, the cabin door opened and he sprinted across the rough ground. Anna reached down to help him aboard, and he clambered inside.

  “Welcome, Mr. Moresby,” said Werner Kleinschmidt, his clean shaven, sunburnt face looking green in the glow from the instrument panel. �
�That worked out very well. We’re on our way.”

  With that, he opened the throttle and they gathered speed.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Friday, September 21, Antigua

  Early the next morning at the Anchor Hotel, Anna and Jon met for breakfast.

  “I see you couldn’t sleep either,” Jon said as he pulled out a chair for her. “By the way, how did you get past the St. Barbe’s passport control last night?”

  Anna smiled. “I owe our friend Kleinschmidt for that. I have a feeling he’s done this kind of thing before. There’s a doorway in the airport perimeter fence by the parking ramp used by light aircraft. It has a huge lock, but he managed to obtain a key for his own use sometime ago. All I had to do was to walk through it and get on the plane.”

  “A man of considerable resources,” replied Jon. “Anything from Stockholm?”

  “Absolutely nothing, and I’m beginning to get a little bit annoyed. No one in the office seems remotely interested in what’s happening on St. Barbe’s, except for Hedi, of course.”

  “I’m not getting anywhere either. I tried Boston again, and the Judge’s phone is still out of order.”

  “What about contacting the Boston police? You told me last night the Judge has a friend who is a Superintendent. He ought to be able to help.”

  “I tried there too, and they suggested calling back at nine to speak to Marshall Thompson’s secretary. Apparently he’s out of town.”

  “Is it too early to talk to Mr. Grinder?”

  “I think so. We should give him a chance to deliver the walkie-talkie to Leeward. It’s a vital communications link. Without it, we can do nothing.”

  After breakfast they returned to their respective rooms, which were in one of the numerous small duplex units set amongst the colorful gardens. Since Anna had only her briefcase with overnight things, she needed to buy a few clothes, and made a shopping list while Jon tried Boston again. He phoned Marshall Thompson’s secretary from his room just after nine o’clock.

  “Ah, Jon Moresby,” came the woman’s reply. “Before he left, Superintendent Thompson warned me you might call. Where are you?”