I doubted that Travis would live in a place with only one exit, so I wanted to check out the back of his building, as well as the adjoining ones. The photos weren't detailed enough for us to determine whether there might be access to Travis's building from the adjacent buildings, or whether his quarters might have roof access.
The trip to the SLAPSA office took about 15 minutes, and we got a sense of the neighborhood as we approached our destination. The SLAPSA building backed up to the freighter docks. A container ship was tied alongside the seawall, but all we could see from the street was the top of the ship's superstructure. A crane was working, so the ship was either loading or unloading cargo. Other than that, there wasn't any activity in the area.
"You want me to wait?" our driver asked as I paid him.
"I'm not sure how long we'll be. We're a little early for our appointment, so we'll walk around for a few minutes. Thanks, though."
Handing me a business card, he said, "Call me if you need a pickup, then. Good afternoon."
Mary and I watched as he drove away, noticing that there was another taxi, a minivan, in the SLAPSA parking lot. Two men sat in the front seats, talking. Staying on the same side of the street as the SLAPSA office, we ambled along the sidewalk to the north. The Sundowner Club was diagonally across from us.
"There's no side access," Mary said, as we drew even with the Sundowner Club. "Those aren't shared walls."
"No. The space is too tight for anybody to squeeze into, but there's daylight between the buildings."
I slowed my pace as we passed the gaps between the buildings. There were no breaks in the surfaces of the walls that might indicate doors or windows that faced one another across the gaps. The walls were brick, their surfaces unpainted.
"No way in or out from the sides," I said.
"If we could get to the roof of one of the adjacent buildings, we could step across onto his roof."
"As best I could tell from the satellite shot, there doesn't appear to be roof access from his building."
"No," Mary said, "but we could rappel from the roof and go in a second-floor window."
"That's a thought, but we don't know the floor plan. That could be risky."
"Better than trying to go in through the club and get upstairs. You know he's going to have somebody watching the stairs."
"No doubt."
Leaving the club behind, we walked past the two buildings between the club and the corner. We turned right and strolled past a retail store. At the next corner, we turned right again, onto the street that ran behind the club.
As soon as we turned the corner, we noticed the front end of a truck blocking the sidewalk up ahead. The truck was backed into an open, overhead door in the back wall of the building that housed the Sundowner Club.
Stepping off the sidewalk to make our way around the truck, we could see a loading dock behind the truck. A double door opened from the loading dock into the ground floor of the club. Cases of wine and liquor were stacked there, and two men were wrestling a dolly loaded with two beer kegs through the doors.
Once we were several steps past the truck, Mary said, "So much for the back door. Unless they leave that overhead door open at night, it won't be of much use to us."
"No, but at least we know it's there. We'll want to make sure he doesn't slip out that way."
"Wonder if there's more than one staircase to the second floor."
"Could be," I said. "You're thinking one from the club, and maybe another from that loading dock area?"
"Yes. Too bad Aaron couldn't get floor plans."
"Well, there's no guarantee they would be accurate, anyway. That building's been there for a while; it could have been remodeled any number of times."
"How are we going to work this?" Mary asked.
"I don't know. We need to come back when the club's open and see what's inside."
"I was hoping we could get this done tonight."
"Me, too," I said. "We still might. We'll just have to see what we find once the club's open."
Mary nodded and took my hand as we strolled along. At the next corner, we turned right again and walked back to the street that ran in front of the club. We crossed to the other side and walked to the SLAPSA parking lot. The idle taxi with the two men in it was still there, the only vehicle in the lot.
As we drew near, the driver got out. He took a few steps toward us, giving a little wave. "Taxi?" he asked, smiling.
"Yes, please," I said.
"Where you goin', mon?"
"Rodney Bay."
"The marina?"
"Yes."
"I take you." He opened the side door, gesturing to the front-most of the three bench seats.
"I am Harvey," he said. "This is my brother, Wendell." He tilted his head toward the man in the front passenger seat. "We are changing drivers. My home is on the way to the marina. I drive there, and then Wendell will take you on to the marina. Tha's okay wit' you?"
"Sure," I said. "No problem."
Mary and I climbed in and settled on the bench seat as the driver closed the door.
Harvey worked his way through the crowded streets of downtown Castries to the highway that skirted the coast from Castries to Rodney Bay. When he turned off on a secondary road and headed into the interior of the island, I thought he was going to his house. Soon, though, we were out in the country, with no houses in sight.
"How much farther?" I asked.
"Not so much," Harvey said.
After several minutes, I said, "Take us back to the highway, please. You didn't tell us it would be so far out of the way."
Wendell turned in his seat, pointing a pistol at me. "Shut up, mon. We makin' a little detour. Some people wantin' to talk wit' you."
"They can't talk with me if you shoot me," I said.
"You right, mon." He shifted the pistol to point at Mary's head. "So if you give me trouble, I shoot your lady. Shame to waste a pretty woman, but tha's the way t'ings work, sometimes."
Moving slowly, I took Mary's hand and gave it a squeeze. "We always enjoy meeting new people in the islands," I said.
Mary said, "Remember that time — "
"Shut up, both of you," Wendell said. "You don' talk unless we say to."
Harvey turned onto a narrow dirt road that wound up a steep hillside. The farther up the road we got, the more overgrown it became. After several minutes, we came to a clearing that was perhaps a hundred yards in diameter. On the far edge, a black SUV was parked in front of a once-elegant plantation house. Harvey pulled up next to the SUV and took a pistol from the pouch on the driver's door.
"You wait," he said, holding us at gunpoint while Wendell got out of the taxi.
Wendell opened the sliding side door and took a step back, pointing his pistol at us again. "You get out now."
Being closer to the door, I climbed down and turned to help Mary. Harvey got out of the taxi and walked around the front, staying well clear of Wendell's field of fire.
"You got weapons?" Wendell asked.
"No," I said.
"Any metal on you?"
"No."
"How 'bout you, lady?"
"No."
"If you lyin', you gon' be sorry. You sure you got nothin' on you?"
"Nothing," I said.
"Me either," Mary said.
"Face toward the house, take three steps, an' stop."
When we stopped, Wendell said, "Raise the arms to the sides, shoulder height."
When we complied, Wendell, behind us now, said, "Check 'em, Harvey."
Harvey walked around us and approached from our front. He held a metal detector wand, testing it by waving it over his own pockets. Satisfied it was working, he waved it over us and found nothing.
"They're clean," Harvey said.
"You go inside Mr. Travis's house, now," Wendell said, motioning for us to walk ahead of him.
Harvey fell in behind us, walking next to Wendell. As we went up the steps to the front porch, I noticed the hou
se wasn't as decrepit as it first appeared. From a distance, it gave the appearance of neglect, but the structure was solid. The double front doors were massive. Works of art, they were mahogany with a hand-carved geometric pattern and a modern deadbolt. The left door swung open as we got within a few steps of it.
"We meet again," Michael Kent said, as he gestured for us to enter.
He stepped aside as we reached the door. Crossing the threshold, I saw another man standing several paces back, in a corner of the two-story entrance hall. He held a pistol pointed at us and motioned for us to go into a drawing room on the right side of the hall.
Mary and I went into the ornately furnished room. It gave me the feeling of stepping back in time to the colonial era.
"Leave us, Wendell," Kent said, his voice coming from behind us now.
The other man followed us toward the drawing room, stopping in the entrance. "Sit on the couch," he said. "Both of you. One at each end. Leave a space between you."
I heard Kent throw the bolt on the front door as Mary and I sat down. Then the taxi's engine started, and the tires crunched on the rocky soil as it turned around. I registered the diminishing sound of the engine as it drove away.
Kent came into the room and settled into a wingback chair across from us. "Meet my partner, Randall Travis."
Travis, his pistol still pointed at us, nodded his head to acknowledge the introduction and took a seat in another wingback chair next to Kent's.
"Now tell us who you really are," Kent said, locking eyes with me.
"J.R. Finnegan," I said, giving him the name on the passport I used when we cleared into St. Lucia.
"J.R.," Kent said. "What's with the initials?"
"They're just initials. People call me Finn."
"Okay, Finn, we'll go with that for now. And how about you, Beautiful?"
"Mary Elizabeth O'Brien."
"Mary Elizabeth?"
She shook her head. "Mary."
"Mary." Kent nodded. "Before this is over, you'll give me your real names, but for now, we'll use Finn and Mary. I'm more interested in the name of your employer."
"Our employer?" I asked.
"Look, Finn. Randall and I are businessmen. We do our best to avoid violence, unlike some people."
"That's commendable," I said.
Kent nodded, a tight smile on his face. "Having said that, we will do whatever is necessary to meet our objectives."
"That's the secret to success in most things, Michael."
The muscles in his jaw twitched. He looked over at Travis and raised his eyebrows. Travis shook his head.
"You're wasting time, Michael," Travis said.
"Randall is getting irritated with you. I think he's about to lose his patience. He has a sadistic streak, you see, but mostly, he keeps it in check. You should help him do that; it's in your best interests. You may have noticed that we're all alone out here. There's nobody for miles around. If you scream, no one will hear you."
"I'll keep that in mind if I have the urge to scream," I said.
"You're a wiseass, Finn," Kent said. "You won't be the one screaming. Not at first, anyway. We'll start with Mary. Women usually scream more readily than men, and you won't like watching what Randall does to her. He's had a lot of practice at making women scream. You'll be amazed at how much pain he can put her through without inflicting permanent injury. We both value women highly; nobody will pay for damaged merchandise. A beautiful young woman like Mary will bring top dollar."
Travis smiled and nodded.
"So, I'll ask again," Kent said. "Who sent you?"
"Nobody," I said. "We were minding our own business, anchored for the evening in Deshaies. Then a thunderstorm blew through. This boat named Seaduction dragged its anchor and hit us. We heard noises from below while we were untangling the boats. Your daughter and — "
"That little whore is not my daughter," Kent said. "Randall, it's time to show them we're serious."
Travis nodded, standing up. He handed his pistol to Kent. Approaching Mary, Travis swung a vicious backhand at Mary's face. She saw it coming and rode with the blow, screaming for effect as she raised a hand to her cheek. Travis stood in front of her for a moment, watching as the tears rolled down her cheek.
22
"Not the face, Randall. How many times have I told you?"
"Sorry, Michael. I wasn't thinking. But the bruise will fade before we deliver her to Antigua. I know you'll comfort her until she's healed; you always enjoy breaking them in."
"I didn't mean to insult your daughter, Michael," I said. "The girl told us she was your daughter, said her name was Margie. We didn't know better. She said you were looking for her, and that the owner of the boat was one of your competitors."
"That girl is too smart for her own good," Travis said. "It's your own fault, though, Michael, keeping her around as long as you did."
Kent handed the pistol to Travis. "Okay, Randall. Now, sit down and let's try this whole thing again."
Travis settled into his chair, rubbing the back of his gun hand and looking at Mary, licking his lips. "Michael samples the merchandise, sometimes. He liked that girl; kept her at his house for a month, let her stay in his daughter's room while his wife was on one of her shopping trips in London. So she learned too much about him, I guess. We'll have to silence her, now that we know what kind of tales she's telling. That's a shame; she and Lucinda are making good money for us in Les Saintes. Right, Michael? You see why I warned you about that?"
"Yes," Kent said. "But it was worth it. Look at this one; she's a prize."
"Okay, Michael. You've made your point. Am I right, Mary?"
Mary rubbed her cheek, sniffling, as she nodded. "Yes."
Kent stared at Mary, his eyes hungry.
"Now, who sent you, Finn?" Kent asked. "Don't play dumb. You destroyed a million-dollar yacht and killed five of our people. We know what you are. You're going to tell us who you're working for before you die. Make it easy on yourself and your girlfriend. I can't believe you dragged her into this. Thoughtless of you, but she's part of it all, now."
My girlfriend? They think Mary's just along for the ride? Figures. Women are only good for one thing, in their business. If I can keep them focused on me, maybe Mary can —
"Tell them about your mystery client, Finn." She paused, looking at me. "Please?" she whined.
"I'm sorry I got you into this." I was stalling now, collecting my thoughts. Mary was tuned in to their mistake — your mystery client was her signal to me. I wasn't sure where she thought I would go with that lead, but all we needed to do was keep them interested. One of them would eventually make a mistake and give us an opening. "I shouldn't have encouraged you to tag along on this one."
Travis jumped to his feet again, handing the pistol to Kent.
"It's not all your fault; I wanted to come with you," Mary said, snuffling as she cowered against the arm of the couch. Her fear was like catnip, drawing Travis toward her. He was almost between me and Kent, blocking Kent's line of fire.
"Wait, Randall," Kent said. "Calm down and give him a chance. You can play with her later. Start talking, Finn."
"Okay," I said, waiting for Travis to sit down.
He backed away from Mary and retrieved his pistol from Kent. Once he was seated again, I said, "Bear with me. I'll tell you everything, but it's going to sound strange."
"Talk fast. I'm not sure how long I can restrain Randall. I think he likes your lady." Kent gave me an evil smile.
"Have you heard of a guy named Rory O'Hanlon? A drug — "
"This is bullshit," Kent said. "O'Hanlon's dead."
"Right," I said. "So, you do know who he was?"
"He's screwing with us," Travis said, eyeing Mary and licking his lips again. He started to get up.
Mary shrunk into herself, her eyes wide as she tried to make herself as small as possible.
Travis grinned at her reaction. "I'm going to — "
"Hold on, Randall. We've got plenty of
time; she's not going anywhere. Let the man talk. You can have her later, for as long as you want."
Travis shook his head, but he dropped back into his chair, his pistol pointed at me.
"Go on, Finn," Kent said.
"Okay. O'Hanlon's dead, and somebody's trying to rebuild his operation. A lot of his troops are still around, waiting for somebody to sort out what's left. The man who hired me is taking control, bit by bit. He knows — "
"Who is he?" Kent asked. "Quit trying to run out the clock, Finn."
"I'm trying to tell you what I know. I don't have his name; guys like him, they work through cut-outs — go-betweens — when they hire people like me. But you probably know that. I — "
"Why do you think we would know that?" Kent asked.
"I was told you were in the business."
"By this person whose name you don't know?"
"Right. By the go-between."
"What else did he tell you about us?"
"That you two were the source of most of O'Hanlon's drug shipments."
Travis and Kent looked at each other for several seconds, both frowning. I was debating jumping Travis when Mary sobbed. I glanced at her and caught a subtle shake of her head.
"What were your instructions?" Kent asked.
"To shake up your operation. He thinks you're trying to set up your own distribution in the U.S. to replace O'Hanlon. Obviously, he wants to discourage you from doing that."
"So your job was to distract us by sabotaging our human trafficking business? Is that what you're saying?"
"More or less. The word I got was that your drug business is suffering. The demand from the old O'Hanlon network has dropped off, so you're trying to make up the difference by trafficking women while you build a network to replace O'Hanlon's. I was supposed to choke off your trafficking operation to put pressure on you. I'm guessing he wants a deal. I don't know, but it would make sense to me that he wants you to stay out of the distribution business in the States and let him handle that."
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