"That's where I came out, too. That way, they could afford to wait until you were aboard alone, even if it meant following us to another island."
"Yes."
"You still have all that equipment from the last time we had this kind of problem?"
"Sure. It's in that hidden compartment under the chart table."
"So we could find the tracker? Or bugs, if they've planted any?"
"Yes. Or we can spoof our position, make them think we're somewhere besides where we really are, like we did before. Why do you ask?"
"I don't like the idea of your using yourself as bait," Mary said. "I can't figure out a good way for me to back you up if you leave me ashore and lead them to the boat."
"I appreciate your concern, but remember, I've done this kind of thing with no backup for a long time. Besides, you could take care of the guy with the camera while I handle the two in the fast dinghy."
"I thought of that, but there are unnecessary risks if we do it that way."
"What risks?" I asked.
"I know you could handle those two by yourself, Finn, but the odds would be better if we worked together. I like to tilt the odds in our favor as much as we can. That's one thing."
"I take it there's another thing."
"Yes. A couple of other things. Those pistols we took from the guys in the BVI don't have suppressors. The boats anchored close to ours are occupied. If you have to shoot the men who come after you, it will attract attention."
"Shooting them would be my last resort," I said.
"Yes, but still, we're in France; the police here are first-rate. Once you deal with those two, we still have to get me aboard. Then we'll be sailing in shallow water for a few hours before we can dispose of the bodies. That doesn't even factor in my killing the guy with the camera. His body will be ashore. Where would I hide it? And worst case, I would have to kill him in broad daylight, right out there on the seawall. I've been trying to figure out how I could lure him away into an alley or something, but I wouldn't bet he'll leave his post. His buddies wouldn't, when I invited them to take me for a ride. The odds of our getting in trouble with the police are high, in my estimation."
"You're right. I've been over all that same ground myself. You're thinking if we go back to the boat together, we'll buy ourselves some time, right?"
"Yes. We can leave after dark and find the tracker once we're out of sight of land. Then we can ditch it or spoof a false trail. Or a combination of the two. Spoof a false trail and then make the tracker disappear somewhere far from where we really are. What do you think?"
"That's probably the right thing to do. I'd rather kill them, but…"
"Why, Finn? Am I seeing the macho side of you, here? Is that it?"
"No. The department doesn't have infinite resources. It's a small shop. The more of their players we take off the board, the less of a threat they represent. But you're right. This isn't a good place to take out their team. An isolated anchorage in Guadeloupe would be better. Let's see if we can make that happen."
"Good," Mary said. "I think that's the right answer. It also gives Aaron a little more time to snoop around. Who knows what he might uncover?"
"Right. More information is always a good thing. And here comes our lunch."
6
Back aboard the boat, Mary and I took the two pistols from their hiding place and checked them over. Satisfied they were in good order, we stashed one in the cockpit locker with our binoculars and the other in the top drawer under the chart table.
"Glad I talked you out of tossing them when we got rid of the bodies?" Mary asked.
"I suppose. You know how I feel about keeping guns aboard, but these may come in handy."
I took the navigation charts out of their storage place under the top of the chart table and laid them aside. The bin where they were stored was about two feet square and six inches deep. In its normal horizontal position, the chart table's top made a lid for the bin. With it propped open, I ran my hand into the back of the space and used my fingernails to lift out a one-foot square false bottom.
The false bottom concealed a space a little bigger than a cigar box. Working by feel, I took out a GPS spoofing unit and a wide-band RF receiver. While Mary put the chart table back together and stowed the charts, I powered on the receiver and set it to scan. In less than a minute, I found a satellite tracking device that was broadcasting our position. A few minutes more, and I determined that we were free of listening devices and concealed cameras.
"Where's the tracker?" Mary asked.
"On deck, forward of the mast. It's probably tucked in around the life raft canister. We'll look for it later, when we're out of sight of our friends."
"What should we do with it? Use the spoofer to send them on a wild goose chase?"
The tracker included a GPS receiver. The GPS stored our location, speed, and heading periodically.
The tracker also contained a satellite transponder. Whoever planted the device could send a query to the transponder. The transponder would then broadcast a series of data points describing our location and movements since the last query.
The spoofer was a gadget that I could program to override the GPS signals that the tracker was receiving. I could load the spoofer with a list of latitude and longitude waypoints with time stamps for each one. It would calculate and broadcast the proper signals as if it were several satellites in the GPS constellation. Because it was close to the tracking device, the signals from the spoofer would blank out the ones from the real GPS satellites. Hence, we could mislead the people tracking us.
"Either that or stash the tracker on another boat that's getting ready to leave. Maybe we can duck into Grand Case and find a cruising boat at anchor. That's not far out of our way. We can tow the dinghy in there and use it to plant the tracker. Once that's done, we'll bring the dinghy aboard and head for open water. Failing that, I'll program the spoofer."
"Sounds good to me," Mary said. "What would you say to taking a long nap this afternoon?"
"That's a fine idea; I'm still tired from the trip here. We'll set a clock and get under way just after sunset. No point in making it easy on them, if they're still watching."
We slept most of the afternoon, waking up in time to cook dinner before we got underway. We ate in the cockpit, watching the sun go down. Once it was fully dark, we started the diesel and retrieved the anchor.
If our friends ashore were monitoring the tracking device, they would know we were moving. With night-vision equipment, they might be able to see us, but they wouldn't be able to tell what we were doing.
While Mary steered, I felt around under the canvas that covered the life raft canister. I found the tracking device stuck on top of the fiberglass canister with double-sided foam tape. With the blade of my rigging knife, I pried it free and took it back to the cockpit.
I held it near the lighted instrument panel, examining it. Mary reached for it, turning it in her hands, steering with her knee. It was roughly the size and shape of a hockey puck; there was no outward indication of its function.
"Are you going to use the spoofer?" Mary asked. "Or do you still want to look for a boat to put it on?"
"I like the boat better. This is a different model than the trackers I've used. I've heard they've come out with some that are resistant to spoofing; this may be one of the new ones. Putting it on another boat's foolproof."
"Am I okay just to run parallel to the shoreline until we get to Grand Case?"
"Yes. Watch the depth sounder. If you see less than about three meters of water, you're too close to shore."
"Okay. Pour me a cup of coffee, will you?" Mary asked.
"Sure. Are you going to take the first watch, then?"
"After we ditch the tracker, yes. You can sack out for a while once we do that."
I nodded and put the tracker beside me on the cockpit seat. The thermos was in the footwell. I leaned over and retrieved it, sitting up again to pour Mary's coffee. I stood and handed it to h
er, noticing the running lights of a small powerboat about a mile behind us.
"Did you see any other boats leaving Marigot when we did?" I asked.
"No." She stood and turned, looking over her shoulder. "Fisherman? It's a little boat. I'm losing the lights in the troughs of the waves."
"Maybe. I'll keep an eye on it."
We both sat down. Mary sipped her coffee, and I watched the tiny red and green lights behind us.
"I can see the lights ashore in Baie Grand Case," Mary said, after a few minutes. "They're peeking out from behind the point. Anything odd about the entrance?"
"It's wide open except for a small shoal a few hundred yards off the western point. You'll want to hug the shore around the point to clear it."
"Okay. See any other boats back there?"
"No. Just the one. He's closing on us, though. It could be a tender from one of those big yachts at Marigot. They're probably going to one of the restaurants in Grand Case. A fisherman would have headed out to deeper water by now."
I shifted my position so I could see the other boat. It was about two hundred yards off our starboard quarter now, bouncing over the chop, making 15 or 20 knots. I reached down and opened the small locker in the side of the cockpit coaming, pulling the binoculars out. One of the pistols we took from the guys in the BVI slid out onto the seat.
I raised the binoculars and focused on the tender just as it altered course. There was enough light from the shore for me to make out some details of the boat. "Three people in one of those yellow RIBs like the boat tour companies use. They're coming straight for us."
"One of those that looks like a jet ski stuck in the middle of a RIB?" Mary asked.
"Yes."
"Damn. That's what those two guys were sitting in when I asked for a ride."
"Okay," I said, picking up the pistol. I eased the slide back far enough to check that there was a round in the chamber. I handed the pistol to Mary. "Take this, but keep it out of sight unless you need to shoot somebody."
"You think it's them?"
"Maybe. If it is, play along. I'm going below. Try to steer so I've got a line of sight on them from the portlight over the chart table, just in case. If they're looking for trouble, I'll open up on them and you hide behind the coaming. If we can take one alive, maybe we can learn a little more from him."
"Got it," Mary said, as I crouched and slipped down through the companionway.
While I was waiting, I opened the portholes and got the other pistol out of the drawer. In about a minute, the yellow RIB was running along next to us, a couple of yards off our starboard side. The man at the controls held them about even with our cockpit.
I had a perfect view of them through the porthole over the chart table. Bracing my left forearm on the cabinets over the chart table, I drew a bead on the man standing up in the back of the dinghy. He held an assault rifle pointed in our general direction.
"Good evening, ma'am," he said, his voice raised enough to be heard over the engine noise. "DEA boarding. Throttle back to idle speed and nobody'll get hurt. We won't be long; it's just a formality."
Mary slowed down. The RIB pulled forward a bit and edged closer. The man in the front got in position to reach for our toe rail as the man at the wheel closed the gap. The man up front extended one hand and grabbed our toe rail. His other hand trained a pistol on Mary.
The one with the assault rifle laid it on our side deck and grabbed the lifelines, climbing aboard. He was out of my field of vision, but Mary could handle him. I nailed the guy with the pistol with one center-of-mass shot. He fell backward against the side of the RIB.
The man at the controls raised a pistol, but I shot him in the shoulder before he could take aim. His pistol flew over the side.
The RIB swerved to the right as the man at the wheel tried to escape. I fired again and killed him before he got his hand to the throttle. I was disappointed, having killed two of the three.
Hoping to take the third one alive, I scrambled up the companionway ladder as he and Mary were struggling over his assault rifle. I couldn't get a clear, non-lethal shot at him, so I yelled to distract him. He glanced at me, and Mary kneed him in the groin. As he doubled over, she released her grip on his rifle.
Pulling her pistol from her waist band, she grabbed his shirt for leverage and smashed the pistol into the side of his head. His knees buckled. Still gripping his shirt, she pulled him toward her so that he fell on our side deck instead of over the lifelines. She picked up his rifle and handed it to me.
"I think he'll keep for a minute, but watch him," she said, shoving her pistol back in the waistband of her shorts. "Give me your pistol and take the helm. Bring us alongside the RIB and I'll go aboard and stage-manage things."
I nodded and did as she said. In a few seconds, the side of our hull kissed the RIB's tube. Mary stepped over the lifelines and dropped into the RIB, shifting it into neutral as I took our boat out of gear and let it drift. She shoved the driver's body aside and got behind the RIB's controls, bringing it in alongside Island Dream.
"What now?" I asked.
"Give me the tracker," she said, holding onto Island Dream with one hand. "I'll attach it to the RIB."
I handed her the tracking device, and she released her grip on Island Dream. As we drifted apart, she moved to the back of the RIB and put a bullet in the driver's head from behind using her pistol.
Tearing a handkerchief-sized piece of fabric from her shirt, Mary wiped our prints from the pistol I used. She put it in the driver's right hand and wrapped his fingers around the grip.
Moving back to the RIB's bow, she wiped her pistol and put it in the hand of the body sprawled there. If the bodies were found and autopsied, the forensic analysis would be puzzling, but that was her intent.
There was enough adhesive still on the back of the tracking device to hold it on top of the RIB's dashboard. Mary stuck it in place and then grabbed the helm with her scrap of cloth, turning to look up at me.
"Where should we send them?" she asked.
"Back to the Virgins," I said. "It's down-wind and down-current."
She nodded. "Come in close and pick me up when I wave," she said, turning to the dinghy's controls.
She put it in forward and eased the throttle open to the point where the RIB was moving at jogging speed. Turning the helm until it was on a compass course of about 280 degrees, she locked it there using the friction brake that was part of the RIB's steering system.
They weren't likely to make it to the Virgins. The RIB would run out of fuel and drift to who knows where, but that didn't matter. They would be well away from St. Martin by daylight. That was all we cared about. That, and the fact that the tracker was going in roughly the opposite direction from the course that Mary and I would take to Guadeloupe.
I brought Island Dream alongside the RIB again. Mary stepped up on the RIB's pneumatic tube and jumped, grabbing Island Dream's lifelines and using her momentum to swing herself aboard. She joined me in the cockpit and sat down, taking a moment to catch her breath.
"Take the helm," I said. "I'll secure our prisoner."
She slid behind the helm and I went below, returning with a handful of cable ties. I knelt beside the unconscious man on the side deck and hog-tied him. Then I dragged him back to the cockpit and lifted him over the coaming, dropping him on the starboard cockpit seat.
"Not bad for an old guy," Mary said. "I'm impressed."
"Thanks, kid. I could use a little of that coffee, while we wait for him to come around."
"Not planning to sleep any time soon?" she asked.
"I'm a little wired just now. I'll sleep later. Let's get out of here. We'll deal with this one once we're past St. Barts. There won't be much traffic out there, and there's plenty of deep water. Once we're through questioning him, we'll weigh him down with chain and feed the fish."
7
We were around 30 miles west of Antigua when the sky to the east began to hint at sunrise. I was on watch; Mary was
sleeping.
Our passage so far was uneventful, although the water was getting rough. The swell rolling in from the east was piling up on the shallows between Nevis and Montserrat, reflecting irregular waves back in our direction.
The boat's motion was becoming erratic. Mary, roused by the change in our ride, appeared in the companionway opening.
"Where are we?" she asked, rubbing her eyes.
"About 50 miles from Deshaies, Guadeloupe. We should be there by cocktail hour. Go back to sleep; I'm okay."
"I got my rest," she said. "Want some breakfast?"
"You bet."
"Coffee first?"
"That would be nice. Bring it up and enjoy the sunrise; it's almost here."
A few minutes later, she was sitting with me behind the helm. Snuggled against me, she took a sip of her coffee.
"Thought any more about what we learned from our visitor?" she asked.
"Not really. Nothing new there."
After the last of our assailants recovered consciousness, Mary got him to talk before she dispatched him. His story was roughly the same as what the guy we questioned in the BVI told us. The only difference was that the second team was ordered to drug Mary while they dealt with me. They were supposed to anchor Island Dream in an out-of-the-way spot and leave her aboard, ditching my body in deep water.
"No, nothing new. I have to tell you though, I'm not too impressed with that bunch you used to work with. They wouldn't have survived a Wednesday night Bible study where I grew up."
"Not everybody had the advantages that you did." I chuckled. "All kidding aside, I guess the experienced people bailed out when Aaron and I did."
"If you say so. These guys they're sending after you are rank amateurs."
"I agree, but don't get complacent. No telling what desperate amateurs will come up with if they're under pressure."
"No, I won't. Changing the subject for a minute, have you thought any more about that contract? I'll need to give my broker an answer pretty soon."
Killers and Keepers Page 5