by Len Maynard
It had troubled me at the time that while my bungalow had been trashed, my boat had been left untouched. If the Cubans were searching for the flash drive, then it would have been an obvious move to rip the guts out of The Lady’s interior in order to find it; but that hadn’t been their objective. Jack knew I had made the trip to Watt’s Cay, and apart from Kim Weaver calling him up and telling him – unlikely – then there was only one way he could have found out.
I searched the boat from bottom to top, and then again from top to bottom. I finally found what I was looking for in the wheelhouse, stuck with an adhesive pad to the underside of the drawer in the chart table. It was no bigger than a small MP3 player, but it looked sophisticated enough. The tracking device had been beaming my whereabouts directly to Jack. There was a small grille covering a microphone set in the front of the device, so I guessed he’d been eavesdropping on our conversations as well. It explained why he was so well informed.
I found a piece of polystyrene and a plastic bag in one of the lockers. I slipped the tracking device and polystyrene inside the bag, secured the top with an elastic band, and lobbed the whole thing over the side into the sea. I watched it bob along for a second or so, and then another wave took it out of sight. Track that, you bastard, I thought, then went back to the wheelhouse and started the engines.
I checked the compass and turned The Lady into the wind. I was heading towards Barracuda Cay, in the dark, in an incipient storm. I would negotiate the treacherous, coral-barbed channel, relying mainly on my own navigational skills to get me through without ripping the bottom out of my boat. It was foolhardy to the point of stupidity, but Jack had left me no choice. I couldn’t afford the luxury of waiting until daybreak.
47
Thirty minutes later I was questioning my sanity. The storm was increasing in ferocity. The wind was quickly becoming gale force, driving the rain horizontally against the windows of the wheelhouse, compromising visibility. The side window, shattered by the Cubans’ bullets, was a gaping hole through which the rain sprayed, soaking me as I stood at the wheel. I was wet, cold, and wondering how much longer it would be before I heard the metallic crunch of the hull grinding against the razor-sharp coral.
I was steering by instinct and little more, and trusting very much to luck to get me through this. The waves crashed over the prow and water ran in a torrent over The Lady’s deck, carrying anything that wasn’t tied down into the sea. A wave lifted us up, bringing the propellers clear of the water, and the twin Penta engines screamed at the sudden lack of resistance. As I eased back on the throttle the wave dropped us like a stone, and we hit the sea with a tooth-jarring crash. The wheel was wrenched from my grasp and I lost my footing on the sopping wet floor. As another wave lifted us again I found myself sliding towards the door. I spread my legs and jammed my feet against the frame, stopping myself from slipping out onto the deck. When we dropped again I rolled over onto my stomach and hauled myself back to my feet, grabbing the wheel and checking the compass and GPS. By some kind of miracle we were still on course. It was if The Lady of Pain had a mind of her own, and she’d taken it upon herself to look after me.
I managed to keep on my feet for the rest of the crossing. I could tell from the GPS that we were almost at the cay, but I could see no lights. In fact, I could see very little except rain and white caps. I didn’t know how I was going to find the jetty in this weather, and I was debating whether or not to drop anchor and wait out the storm. I would lose valuable time, but at least I wouldn’t run The Lady aground on one of Barracuda Cay’s beaches.
As I made my way aft I saw a glimmer of moonlight winking through one of the heavy black thunderheads and, it may have been my imagination, but I could swear the wind was dropping and the rain easing off. I looked up at the moon. It was growing in size as the split in the cloud grew wider. The rocking of the boat was calming and the sea was less violent. A half a mile further on and the rain had practically stopped, and the wind speed had dropped to a moderate breeze. I looked ahead and saw the hump of land that was Barracuda Cay, bathed in moonlight and more welcome than an oasis in a desert.
I eased forward on the throttle and headed towards the jetty.
48
The look on Julius Flood’s face after he opened the door to my insistent knocking was priceless.
‘Harry, man! Holy Mary! I did not expect to see you again so soon.’ He looked back over his shoulder. ‘Nona,’ he called. ‘It’s Harry. Light the stove.’
‘At this time of night?’ She stuck her head around the door of the kitchen. ‘Cold cuts, Harry. Okay?’
‘I don’t come here just so you can feed me, Nona,’ I said.
Julius held the door wide. ‘Come in, man.’ As I walked past him he said, ‘You’re soaked.’
‘Blowing up a bit out there,’ I said.
‘Tropical storm coming. It’s been all over the news for the last two days.’
‘It’s here. I just sailed through it.’
The people of the Bahamas are used to the extreme tricks the weather can play, but over the last few years the Islands have been struck by two hurricanes, and the resulting damage has hit the economy badly. Many businesses have closed and tourism has nosedived, leading to unemployment problems and a general rise in the crime rate.
The Floods were insulated to a certain degree; living on Barracuda had always been a hard existence, so they were the least likely to feel the effects. Julius was still being cautious though…storm warnings make you paranoid. As I approached the house I noticed he had storm shutters covering the windows.
He left me on my own for a moment, returning a few minutes later with a voluminous dressing gown. ‘Get out of those wet things. I’ll get Nona to dry them by the stove.’
As I stripped off and enveloped myself in the dressing gown, he said, ‘What’re you doing here, Harry?’
‘I need to talk to the old man again.’
‘Oh?’
‘He knows something,’ I said. ‘About Alan’s whereabouts.’
‘What makes you so sure?’ Nona said, as she walked into the room carrying a tray laden with cold meats of every description, and colorful mixes of rice and vegetables.
‘It was in his eyes, the last time I saw him. I think he only told me he was Alan’s father to throw me off the track and stop me from asking questions. He always was an evasive old bugger. I’ve known him long enough to notice the signs. Last time there was too much going on for me to catch on immediately. I’ve had time to think since then, and the more I’ve thought about it, the more I’m convinced he knows more than he’s telling.’
Julius and Nona exchanged glances, and a whole unspoken dialogue took place in their eyes. I caught it immediately.
‘You know something, don’t you?’
Julius sighed, forked some meat and rice onto a plate, and flopped down into an armchair, resting the plate on his knees.
‘Alan was here, Harry,’ Nona said.
‘When?’
‘The same time you were. There’s a cove on the other side of Barracuda. It’s sheltered from prying eyes by overhanging rocks. Pirates used to use it in the seventeen hundreds as a hideout from the authorities. Alan moored his boat there for a couple of days.’
‘And you didn’t think to tell me that when I was last here?’
‘We gave him our word, man,’ Julius said. ‘He begged us not to tell anyone.’
‘Not even me?’
‘Especially not you.’
‘Is he still there?’ I asked hopefully, but knowing the answer would be in the negative.
Nona shook her head. ‘He took off not long after you left. We’re sorry, Harry. We didn’t mean to keep you in the dark.’
I stared across at the tray of cold cuts. My appetite had deserted me. ‘Nona,’ I said. ‘People have died because I couldn’t find Alan. Good people; innocent people.’
Tears sprang to her eyes. She choked back a sob and ran from the room.
49
Julius lowered his eyes; he was finding it difficult to look at me directly. ‘He was in a mess, Harry. He’d seen the explosion that took Anna and Sally. He’d been walking back to the house when the car went up. He blames himself.’
‘So he should.’
‘Hey, man, show a little compassion. You two have been friends forever.’
‘As people are fond of reminding me. And yet he’s been my brother as well, all along. I know all that, but I also know that Alan got himself mixed up in something so horrible that tragedy was the only outcome. If I blame him for anything it’s his greed and stupidity. He must have known that nothing good was ever going to come out of it.’
‘He knows that, and he’s sorry. More sorry than you can imagine.’
‘Fine, but that’s not enough, not any more. He came to see me the morning Anna and Sally died…at least he came to the boat. Why?’
‘He came to ask for your help. You were the only person on Grand Bahama he trusted.’
‘Then why didn’t he make more of an effort to track me down? Was he scared?’
‘He was,’ Julius said. ‘But scared for you, not of you. Once he’d witnessed his car exploding he realized that the stakes were much higher than he’d first thought, and he knew he couldn’t involve you. He was worried for your safety, man. So he set out to sea and ended up here asking us to shelter him…well, actually, he asked your father.’
‘And I’ll bet the old bastard couldn’t wait to help him. Alan is his son, after all.’
‘Lose the bitterness, Harry. It doesn’t suit you.’
‘Fuck it, Julius. How do you expect me to feel?’
‘I expect you to understand, I suppose. These things happen. Sometimes we don’t choose the path life sets out for us. Sometimes it chooses us.’
‘And what about free will, Julius? Are you saying we can’t decide whether to take the right path or the wrong one?’
‘Sometimes.’
‘Bullshit! I don’t accept that,’ I said. ‘I accept that the old man fell in love with Robert Lancaster’s wife. I even accept that she gave him a son. But to keep that information from me for all these years…that was his choice, and as far as I’m concerned, an unforgivable one.’
‘I dare say he was trying to protect you,’ Nona said as she came back into the room. She was dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. ‘Your father’s not a bad man, Harry. He’s only human. He made judgment calls; maybe not the right ones when you look back on it, but hindsight makes us wise. He did what he thought was right.’
I wasn’t convinced. I lit a cigarette and sank back into my seat, feeling morose and more than a little angry.
‘If he did wrong, Harry, he’ll be judged by a much higher authority than us.’
Which, if you believe in God, is a comforting thought. I don’t, so it gave me no comfort whatsoever.
‘We’re getting off the track here,’ I said. ‘The rights and wrongs of my father’s actions can wait. Right now I’m racing the clock. I have to find Alan, and I have less than a day to do so.’
Julius narrowed his eyes. ‘And why would that be?’
I told him.
When I’d finished he looked visibly shocked, and Nona was crying again.
‘Let me get this straight,’ he said. ‘You have to find Alan and hand him over to Jack Dylan, who’s going to kill him, and once you’ve done that your friends on Watt’s Cay will be safe. Do I have that right?’
‘That’s about it,’ I said.
‘Christ! You have a nerve to sit there in judgment of your father.’ Julius was suddenly angry. He was on his feet and towering over me. ‘You’re a hypocrite, Harry, a bloody hypocrite, with all your fancy talk of the right path and the wrong path. You’re handing out a death sentence to Alan. Is that the right path to take? And do you honestly think you’ll be able to live with yourself after you’ve taken it?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Or maybe that’s your plan. Once Alan’s dead you’ll have your father all to yourself. Is that it? Is that what’s driving you on to do this?’
‘That’s ridiculous. My priority has to be saving the lives of Kim, Stevie, and the others. My relationship with my father is a whole separate issue, and one that I’ll deal with once all this is over.’
‘When this is over Alan will be dead. Very convenient for you.’
I looked up at him. ‘It’s not like that. Please, Julius.’
He gave me a look that was half contempt and half pity, and then he turned and walked from the room. I heard a door slam.
‘Nona,’ I said. ‘Can’t you make him understand?’
Nona sniffed back the tears. ‘I’m not sure I can, Harry, because I’m not sure I understand it myself.’
I lit another cigarette, but it tasted sour in my mouth. I ground it to death in the ashtray and went outside.
Julius was sitting on the steps of the porch. He glanced round at me with tears in his eyes.
‘Is there any point in continuing this conversation?’ I said.
‘You know where I stand, Harry. I’m not going to shift my position. What you’re doing is wrong. Plain wrong.’
‘What would you do, if you were me?’
‘I’d sail out to Watt’s Cay and rescue my friends, and then I’d see about dealing with Jack Dylan.’
‘And Alan?’
‘I’d let Alan find me.’
‘So I’m meant to sail across to Watt’s Cay and take out three heavily armed and very dangerous Cubans single handed. I see the flaw in your plan right there. I’m not Rambo.’
‘You wouldn’t be single-handed,’ Julius said. ‘I’m a good man in a fight, Harry.’
I looked at him steadily. ‘You’re serious, aren’t you?’
He nodded his head slowly. ‘I don’t see what you’d have to lose.’
‘Well, you, for a start. Nona would never forgive me if anything happened to you. Hell, I’d never forgive myself.’
‘It would be my choice. Nona would understand.’
‘I would understand what?’ Nona was standing in the doorway holding two glasses of pineapple rum.
‘He thinks we should go to Watt’s Cay and rescue Stevie and the others,’ I said.
She handed us the glasses. ‘Does he now?’ she said. She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her husband’s shoulders. ‘Julius Flood, what am I going to do with you?’ she said softly.
‘Harry needs me, Nona. He can’t do this on his own.’
She kissed his cheek. ‘No, I don’t suppose he can.’ She turned and looked up at me. ‘And when do you plan on going?’
‘As soon as possible.’
She shook her head. ‘You’ll never make it through the channel, not in the dark,’ she said.
‘I made it here in the dark,’ I said.
‘More by luck than judgment, I’d guess, and you can push your luck too far, you know? Besides, you look ready to drop. Leave it ’til daybreak.’ She once again focused her attention on Julius. ‘And you, big man, if you get yourself killed, I’ll never forgive you.’
‘That wasn’t part of the plan,’ Julius said. He turned to me. ‘Harry, why do you think Reynolds left you high and dry?’
‘I’ve been wondering the same thing myself. Maybe he didn’t believe my story. He said he had to consult with Assistant Commissioner Brooks. Maybe Brooks didn’t believe it and pulled the plug on the rescue mission.’
‘There is another, more sinister explanation,’ Julius said.
‘Yes, I know. But if you knew Hector Reynolds as well as I do you’d discount the possibility that he could be involved in all this. The man’s as straight ahead as they come.’
‘In your opinion.’
‘Not just mine. Ray Burgess thinks so too, and he’d a much better judge of character than I am.’
At that moment light spilled out onto the yard as my father opened the door of his house.
50
&n
bsp; ‘You got a conference going on, Julius?’ he called.
‘Sorry. Didn’t mean to disturb you,’ Julius called back. ‘I’ve got Harry here.’
My father didn’t reply. I heard a door close and the light was extinguished. Seconds later he was there on Julius’s porch. He noticed the glasses of rum immediately and a tremor went through his emaciated body. His eyes closed as he tried to gather himself. His teeth were in this time, and he’d shaved away the stubble. He didn’t look great – his eyes had sunk into their sockets and he was breathing heavily through his mouth, as if the effort of walking the few yards from his house to the Floods had drained him – but he didn’t look one breath away from a coffin as he had the last time I’d seen him, so that was an improvement.
‘I owe you an apology,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t have told you about Alan, not like that.’
‘What, you mean you should have dressed it up? Maybe you should have hung flags and banners to announce it.’
‘Harry,’ Nona said soothingly. ‘Give him a chance.’
I stared into her eyes, saw the compassion there, and something went out of me. A few hours before I’d seen two people shot dead before my eyes; their only crime was that of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Somehow the knowledge that my father had sired an illegitimate son, and that son was my best friend, just didn’t seem that important in comparison.
‘Do you know where Alan is?’ I said.
The old man took a breath, and then he nodded his head, slowly.
‘Well?’
‘Do I have your forgiveness?’
‘Just tell me where he is.’
‘Please, son.’
I could feel three pairs of eyes watching me, willing me to make the right decision. ‘Yes,’ I said after what seemed like an eternity. ‘I forgive you.’
It was a lie.
The old man’s shoulders sagged and tears welled up in his eyes. Nona put her arm around his shoulder and hugged him. ‘I told you, Lucas,’ she said softly. ‘Harry’s a good man.’