by Len Maynard
The five of us sat there under the watchful eye of Maritza, who stood with her back to the window, smoking and holding the machine pistol steady. I noticed her trigger finger twitch occasionally. She was trying to convey nonchalance, but her body language gave her away; she was strung out. She may have gotten her kicks from torturing young girls and old ladies, but guard duty was out of her comfort zone.
‘How are we going to get out of this, Harry?’ Stevie whispered to me.
‘Silencio!’ Maritza snapped, and jerked the gun threateningly.
‘She told you to watch us,’ Sam said. ‘She didn’t say we couldn’t speak.’
Maritza glared at him, but there was uncertainty in her eyes as well.
‘Are you three okay?’ I asked, testing Maritza’s resolve. This time she said nothing, just continued to glare.
‘As fine as can be expected,’ Billie said. ‘But Luis has wandering hands, and seems to have formed a deep attachment to my breasts.’
‘Where is he?’ I hadn’t seen the smaller of the Cuban men since arriving at the house.
‘Oh, he’s around,’ Sam said. ‘The bastard shot Philippe. He seems to be the leader of the Terrible Trio. Miguel, the big one, doesn’t say a lot, and the ugly bitch,’ he nodded in Maritza’s direction, ‘seems to be on something. She pops the odd pill every now and then, and seems pretty strung out. But it’s your friend Kim who’s calling the shots here. Didn’t you suspect she was involved?’
‘I had no reason to. I didn’t know she and Jack were a couple. I take it the FBI didn’t know of the involvement.’
‘How should I know?’
‘It’s okay; you can drop the pretense now. Alan was meeting with an FBI agent here for a tradeoff. All the information about the cartel in exchange for immunity from prosecution. But the meeting never took place. Someone in the Bureau sold him out to the cartel, and Jack had the bomb planted in his car.’
‘And you think I’m an FBI agent?’ He shook his head. ‘I’m flattered, but sorry; I’m a journalist, nothing more, nothing less.’
‘Well if it isn’t him,’ Julius said. ‘Who is it?’
I scratched my head. ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I was convinced it was Sam.’
‘I think the more important question is, who sold Alan out?’ Billie said.
‘Well, that would be me,’ Kim said as she walked back into the room.
‘You?’ I said.
Kim smiled. ‘I just keep rocking your safe little world, don’t I, Harry? You never knew this, but Ted was very involved with the Bureau. He had a huge network of contacts on Wall Street, and the FBI recruited him years ago to make use of his knowledge. It was during the insider trading scandal of the ’80s. Ted was able to provide names and dates. The information he supplied led to many arrests and prosecutions, and he continued working for them right up to his death. At his funeral the head of the Baltimore office approached me and asked if I would carry on his work.’
‘But you weren’t part of his network,’ I said. ‘What use were you to them?’
‘I had a network of my own, Harry. The wives. You’d be amazed how many indiscretions were revealed during our coffee mornings and fundraisers. I was just as valuable to them as Ted, sometimes more so. So, they put me on the payroll; undercover, of course.’
‘And now she’s my mole.’ Jack Dylan strolled into the room. ‘You’d be amazed how useful it is to have someone who has inside access to an organization like the FBI. It keeps me one step ahead of the game.’ He went across to the bar and poured himself a whisky, and another brandy for Kim.
‘You two are a piece of work,’ I said in disgust.
‘Yes, we are, aren’t we?’ Kim said with something like glee in her voice. ‘Alan was aware of my relationship with the FBI – I’d used my contacts to help him out in the past – but he knew nothing of my relationship with Jack. So when he decided he wanted to wreck the cartel I was the first person he contacted. Of course, I had to set up a meeting or he would have suspected something was wrong, and if he’d contacted the Bureau direct and voiced his suspicions about me…well, let’s just say it could have made my life a little awkward.’
‘Once Kim told me what had happened I had no option but to take him out before the meeting could take place,’ Jack said, and took a gulp of whisky. ‘But you know the outcome of that attempt.’
‘And Alan still trusts you?’ I said to Kim.
‘Apparently so, which I’m sure is why he’s on his way here now.’
‘Anyway,’ Jack said. ‘Enough of the history lesson. Harry, come with me. There’s something I want to show you.’ He turned to Kim. ‘Call me when Alan finally arrives.’ He checked his watch. ‘I don’t know what’s keeping him.’
He came across to where we were sitting and hauled me to my feet. ‘We’re going for a little walk. Just you and me.’ He pushed me towards the door.
‘Harry!’ Stevie cried out. I could see the panic in her eyes. To Jack she said, ‘Don’t kill him. Please don’t kill him.’
I saw something shift in Jack’s eyes. ‘Actually, you come too,’ he said to her. ‘You should find it interesting.
‘Leave her out of this,’ I said.
‘No, I don’t think I shall. It will be an education for her.’
‘Stevie, stay here.’
‘They’re going to kill us anyway, Harry. This way neither of us dies alone.’ Hesitantly Stevie got to her feet. There were tears in her eyes, but she was willing them to stay there.
55
Moments later we were outside and walking back across Watt’s Cay the way Julius and I had come.
‘Where are you taking us?’ I said.
‘You’ll see soon enough.’ Jack was walking two paces behind us. There was no gun in his hand, but the pocket of his jacket bulged heavily. If we tried to run we’d end up with a bullet in our backs. Of that I had no doubt.
We breasted the rise from where Julius and I had observed the house, and from there it was a clear run down to the beach. When we reached the stand of palms where I had hidden the dinghy, I saw immediately that it had gone. I turned and looked at Jack.
‘Almost there,’ he said.
As we stepped onto the beach I saw the dinghy. It was out at sea, midway between The Lady of Pain and the beach, being steered back to land by Luis, the smaller of the Cubans.
‘What the hell is this, Jack?’ I said, but alarm bells were ringing so loudly in my head I wouldn’t have heard his answer had he given one.
The dinghy finally glided to a halt on the silver sand. Luis killed the motor and jumped out, running up the beach to where we stood. He stopped a yard away.
‘You haven’t been properly introduced,’ Jack said. ‘This is Luis Aldama. Luis has worked for me for many years now. He’s a killer by profession. He likes killing people. Even more, he likes getting paid to kill people. I pay him so he kills for me when necessary. He’s very good at it.’
Luis Aldama gave a small bow, proud of the accolade.
Beside me Stevie shuddered.
‘Why don’t you just get this over with?’ I said. ‘We don’t need the theatrics.’
‘Impatient to meet your maker, Harry? I would never have guessed you had a death wish.’ Shielding his eyes from the sun, he looked out to sea. ‘That wasn’t why I brought you down here. Remember what I said about loose ends?’
I nodded.
‘Well I’m looking at one now.’
I followed his line of sight.
In the distance The Lady was rising and falling on the gentle swell of the sea, the sunlight glinting on her white superstructure and on the waves surrounding her.
Jack tapped Luis on the shoulder, and from his pocket the Cuban produced a small device with an aerial and a red switch.
‘Luis is also an explosives expert,’ Jack said.
Luis flipped the switch, and The Lady was engulfed in an orange ball of fire.
Stevie’s eyes widened. I think she screamed, as the only
real love of her life was blown apart.
A second later the sound of the explosion reached land; a terrifying deep-throated roar of destruction that I felt throughout my entire body. Stevie had sunk to her knees and was sobbing, hot tears of grief and anger coursing down her face. ‘You bastard! You bastard!’ she said over and over again, repeating it like a mantra as she rocked backwards and forwards.
As I watched the column of black smoke rise up from The Lady’s scorched hull, something inside me snapped. I hurled myself at Jack, head butting him in the chest. Taken by surprise, he went down, landing flat on his back, and laid there laughing. I was straining against the ties that secured my hands behind my back. I needed my hands free so I could wrap them around his throat, but the more I strained, the tighter the restraints became, until the blood supply was virtually cut off.
I kicked out, aiming for Jack’s head, but missed by a mile and, while I was off balance, Luis moved in and kicked my other leg from underneath me, making me tumble to the sand. I landed on my bound wrists, but the pain was insignificant compared to the pain of losing The Lady. I rolled over onto my side and watched as my precious boat, my life for the last seven years, listed to port and then slipped beneath the waves. I had never hated anyone more than I hated Jack Dylan at that moment.
For him this had nothing to do with loose ends. This was sadism of the first order; he’d proved that by bringing Stevie along to witness this destruction. She was still sobbing, bereft and alone. There was nothing I could do or say to comfort her. I felt impotent, but from that feeling of utter helplessness a new, deep-rooted resolve was forming. Jack wasn’t going to triumph. I was going to bring him down, and I was going to bring him down hard. I would make him suffer the way he was making Stevie and I suffer now; and like him, I would show no mercy.
56
‘There’s something else I want to show you before we head back,’ Jack said.
We were on our feet and stumbling through the sand. Stevie’s tears had dried, and her face looked like stone. No emotion showed there at all. It had been wiped.
Jack and the Cuban walked behind us; both carried guns, and they were watching us carefully. ‘Turn right at the next palm and make your way up the rise,’ Jack said.
Neither Stevie nor I said a word, but as we came to the next palm tree we turned and started to climb up the sand bank. At the top we stopped and waited.
‘Keep walking,’ Jack said. ‘We’re not there yet.’
There was a small house in the distance, squat and decaying. Storm shutters covered the windows but were starting to fall apart. Paint peeled from the clapboard, and the roof was missing great patches of shingles. The house reminded me of a rotten tooth sticking out from the ground, badly in need of extraction.
A low picket fence ran around the perimeter of the property, but it too had been neglected and the wood was starting to decay, crumbling to dust. Jack moved forward and stepped over it. ‘This way,’ he said.
We followed, with Luis bringing up the rear, the gun in his hand ready and cocked.
Three steps led up to a narrow porch. The door had once been painted a pastel blue, but was now so streaked with bird lime that the original color only showed through in sparse patches, like the sky peeking through storm clouds.
From his pocket Jack produced a key and slotted it into the lock. He turned and pushed the door open. ‘Follow me.’
There was little illumination, although a few stray beams of sunlight managed to slip in through the broken shutters, catching the dust motes in the air and making then glisten. A narrow staircase with a few broken risers ascended from across the room. Jack stood at the bottom and called out. ‘Elena! We’re back.’
The door at the top of the stairs opened and a pretty teenage girl stepped out. Her hair was a mass of black curls that tumbled to her shoulders. She wore a white tank top and tight denim cut offs.
She stared down at us, saw Luis as he stepped into the house, and the pretty face split into a wide grin, showing a row of perfect white teeth. ‘Luis!’ she cried, and ran down the stairs, throwing her arms around Luis’s neck and covering his face with kisses.
‘Elena is Luis’s sister. She keeps house for me here.’
In all my time on Watt’s Cay I had never seen the house before. ‘What is this place?’ I said, my own curiosity overriding my desire not to waste any more of my breath on Jack.
‘It’s all that’s left of the original settlement. There were five houses like this. Back in the thirties a few Hollywood stars hung out here on Watt’s Cay. From what I can gather all sorts of debauchery was indulged. Drink, drugs…sex, lots of sex. I rather like the ambience.’
‘You’re sick,’ Stevie said. It was the first words she’d uttered since the sinking of The Lady, and the words were spoken with such venom even Jack winced a little.
The torrent of kisses finally abated, and Elena pulled away a little breathlessly. Close up she looked slightly older than I’d first thought – maybe early twenties – and the resemblance to her brother was marked.
Siblings. The word drifted through my head. Luis and Elena, Serena and Jerry, Alan and me…I blocked the thought. I needed to keep a clear head.
‘How are they?’ Jack said to Elena.
‘They’re well, Jack. I’ve told them a boat was coming from America tomorrow to take them off on an amazing adventure. They’re very excited.’ Unlike her brother, Elena’s English was flawless, and I wondered about her background. She sounded like a typical American college kid.
‘Let’s go and take a look, shall we?’
We followed Jack up the stairs, along a short passageway, and into a bedroom.
The room was decked out like a dormitory, with six single divan beds, three on each side of the room, and on each bed was a child. It was lighter in here; the storm shutters at the two windows had long since rotted away, and I could see the children clearly. Not one of them was more than seven years old. There were three boys and three girls, and they were all smiling, big beaming smiles that reached their eyes and made them sparkle. They didn’t know the nature of the amazing adventure they’d been promised, but I did, and that knowledge broke my heart.
‘Well, Harry, what do you think?’
‘What do you mean, what do I think?’ I said. ‘I think Stevie was right. You are one sick fuck.’
‘Harsh, Harry, harsh. I’m giving these children the opportunity for a better life.’
‘What, as sex slaves to other sick fucks? Don’t insult my intelligence by trying to pretend your motives are altruistic. These are the golden eggs. Your passport to wealth. A testament to your greed.’
‘Very poetic, Harry. Funny, I never had you pegged as a poet.’
‘It just shows how little we know those we consider to be our friends. Funny, I never had you pegged as a thoroughgoing bastard. Seems we were both wrong.’
‘You’re still pissed at me for blowing up your boat,’ he said. ‘Guess it’s going to take me a long time to get back into your good books after that one.’
He was mocking me. Did he really hate me that much? And for how long had he been harboring those feelings? ‘What happened to us, Jack? We were friends.’
‘Friendships wither and die, Harry. And let’s face it, I’m not Alan, and Alan’s your true friend; always was. I was always the one on the outside. Remember when we were kids? It was always Harry and Alan, Alan and Harry. I was the tall freaky one who you’d indulge sometimes. Maybe you’d let me into your games if it suited you, and if it didn’t you’d drop me like a stone. Outside looking in, Harry, that was me. Outside looking in.’
‘So this is about our childhood? You have to be kidding me.’
He grabbed me then and pushed me up against the wall, his fingers burying themselves in the flesh of my throat. ‘There have been times over the years when I’ve wanted to smash you, to beat you to a pulp, both of you…both you and Alan. To wipe the supercilious smiles off your faces. I’ve had nothing but bad luck in
my life. Three marriages down the tubes; the bastards closing down my restaurant…’
‘You can’t blame us for that,’ I managed to get out, but the grip on my throat tightened.
‘Shut your mouth! How do you think I felt having to ask Alan for help? And knowing that he wouldn’t even consider helping me before he ran it by his best buddy Harry? It stuck in my craw. And even now, all these years on, it sits there, like bile, threatening to choke me.
‘Well this is my time; this is my venture; my passport to wealth. These are the golden eggs. Look about the room, Harry, and you’re looking at two hundred thousand dollars. We bring in two shipments a week, fifty-two weeks a year. I’ll leave you to do the math. And even this…even this both you and Alan want to take away from me. Well, it’s not going to happen this time, Harry. Not this time.’
He released me, his anger spent, and let me crumple to the floor.
Stevie was on her knees at my side. ‘He’s mad, Harry. Totally fucking insane!’
I looked up at Jack, who had his arm around Elena and was whispering into her ear. Luis looked on approvingly.
‘No, Stevie, it’s the world that’s insane. Jack’s bitter and twisted, and playing out his game of vengeance against that madness. But he’s not insane. Evil, yes, but he’s no more mad than we are.’
Jack’s mobile phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket and put it to his ear. ‘What do you mean he hasn’t arrived? You spoke to him hours ago and he said he was on his way.’ He listened for a moment. It was quite satisfying to see that the smile had slipped from his face. ‘Okay, okay. Tell Miguel and Maritza to take them down to the jetty and get them on the boat. I’ll meet them down there shortly.’ He snapped the phone shut and dropped it back into his pocket. ‘Fuck!’
‘So, Alan hasn’t walked into the trap you set for him,’ I said. ‘That must be very disappointing.’
‘Shut up!’ He was rattled. That too was satisfying. He turned to Luis. ‘Get them out of here.’
Luis raised his gun. ‘Move,’ he said.