Shark Eater

by K D McNiven

  “Couldn’t be why you decided to go to Haiti, now is it?” chuckled Dax, catching on to Manny’s intentions.

  Manny grinned. “A well-documented cargo ship disappears, and miraculously a cargo ship appears that’s never docked before and ends up unloading in the same vicinity—I’m pretty suspicious the Rosy Anne is one and the same.”

  “Reasonable conclusion,” Decker agreed.

  “Why don’t we take a couple of days and do some investigating,” Dax said. “We’ll check out some local factories and see if they have access to the chemicals we’re looking for.”

  “Read my mind,” Manny said. “Whoever’s responsible for dumping the waste must be held accountable.”

  “We’re heading into an inlet,” Linus told them. “Should be a little less turbulent from this point on. There is zero visibility for all the rain, but we’re on course and have dodged the shallows.” He doubled his fist and pumped his arm with elation.

  Dax gave a mock salute to Linus. “Good show. I’m pretty sure we’ll all be glad to have some solid ground beneath us. Both the ladies were feeling nauseous from all of the rocking and rolling.”

  “Only the ladies?” Decker smiled. “You looked a bit green at the gills yourself.”

  “Have to admit. Almost lost my lunch.”

  “Speaking of the ladies, I’m going to go below deck and see how they’re doing.” Decker excused himself and headed out of the pilothouse.

  He was glad to see Karina sitting upright, sipping at a cup of steaming tea. They looked pleased that the ship had stopped lurching so violently. Callie looked much better than the last time he’d seen her as well.

  “Good thing you have a hard noggin, Kat,” teased Decker, pulling up a chair.

  “I agree,” she said. She scrunched her face as a sharp pain drove through her skull.

  “No concussion?”

  “There hasn’t been any sign of one,” Callie said. “But, I’ll keep a watch on her through the evening in case.”

  “We’ll be staying a couple of nights in Haiti,” Decker said. “We discovered a ship disguised as the Rosy Anne that we believe is the Gabriel.”

  “Wouldn’t that be something,” Callie said.

  “Manny’s not certain, but after reviewing archived ship logs, he’s suspicious.”

  “That’s one ship I hope we take down,” Callie replied. “The Gabriel needs to be removed from the waterways, as well as the person who hired it to transport chemicals and dump them into the Caribbean. The effects of those pollutants have wide-range effects on the ecosystem as well as human lives.”

  “You don’t need to convince me,” Decker said.

  “How do you intend to catch them?” asked Karina, taking a sip of tea, her green eyes surveying Decker over the rim.

  “We’re going ashore to do some investigating,” he replied. “Someone will have information concerning unethical businesses practices in this area. There are those who wink at illegal transactions if it serves them somehow. But there are others who will want to see the responsible parties pay.”

  “I’ll be ecstatic if the crew can play a part in taking them down,” Karina said.

  “Me too, Kat. Me too,” Decker agreed.

  CHAPTER 22

  Cap-Haitien, Haiti

  By the time the Shark Eater anchored offshore of Cap-Haitien, the driving winds had lessened, and the rain had subsided to a drizzle. The crew made their rounds, looking to make sure there had not been any notable damage fore and aft. Visually, there was nothing that impaired the ship’s embarking, much to their relief.

  Once their inspection was complete, Decker, Callie, Dax, and India decided they would take the Zodiac to shore and do a little information seeking.

  Callie was happy to be going ashore and have her feet planted firmly on solid ground. Her stomach had been doing flip-flops for hours. It was never easy to ride out a storm. The shifting and constant up and down motion made the staunchest sailor prone to heaving over the side.

  On shore, they found their way to a small cantina. They seated themselves at a table in the center of the establishment that at this time was not very crowded. Ordering a round of drinks and a couple of side dishes, they took a few moments to relax. First on their agenda was to ask a lot of questions of the locals—especially the fishermen.

  Decker was the first to initiate their plan of action by sliding onto one of the bar seats. He spread out a map of the area, trying to see the lay of the land. He motioned for the bartender to join him—a Spanish gentleman, dressed in a black shirt decorated with sequins, and black slacks. His hair was neatly trimmed and slicked back away from his round face, a touch of grey at his temples. He looked to be in his fifties. His gentle, dark eyes surveyed Decker with curiosity.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Perhaps,” Decker replied. “We’re anchored a bit offshore for a couple of days. I was wondering what sort of factories are in this area? We saw a few ships unloading cargo at the docks.”

  We’re not unlike any other port,” he told Decker. “Importing goods such as soybeans, corn, medical supplies, cars, those kinds of things.”

  “Is there much in the way of chemicals coming in or going out?”

  The bartender looked at him suspiciously, wondering why he was interested in their import practices. He shrugged. “I suppose there are some, but I don’t know of these things.”

  “Well, I appreciate the information,” Decker told him, folding the map. “I like informing myself whenever I come to a new area. You’ve been helpful.”

  He sat down at the table again. All eyes were on him. Decker shook his head. “I didn’t find out much this go around. We may have to rent a car and scout the area. With any luck, we will come across a manufacturing plant that uses the kind of chemicals Kat found.”

  “That might be the best solution,” Dax agreed. “Why don’t we keep looking around for a while. Ask more questions. And hopefully, someone will have heard something that will help us.”

  “We could go along some of the river outlets and take some water samples as well,’ Callie said.

  “Good idea,” Decker agreed. They could take some of the samples back to Karina for testing. Presently, they had very little to go on, but they intended to walk along the docks to see if anyone was familiar with the Gabriel or the Rosy Anne. Surely someone had some knowledge about the ships.

  The day was nearly at an end. Coming up empty-handed, they made their way back to the Zodiac. They would make another attempt in the morning. Rent a vehicle and do some more investigating. They weren’t about to drop the matter. They were determined to get a lead on this before they pulled anchor. And, with any luck, they’d see the culprit behind bars.

  The following day after breakfast, the same team of four made their way back to Cap-Haitien. They rented a four-door jeep and made their way along the docks, stopping every so often to ask questions. One man had seen the Gabriel on several occasions, and another had actually unloaded cargo off her. At least they were on the right track. Now, to find the source of the chemicals, most likely a manufacturing plant.

  They considered that the plant may not be located directly on the coast line and that the containers of chemicals were perhaps loaded onto trucks and driven to a secluded area for unloading. The latter of the two seemed the most likely scenario in an attempt to protect their unlawful practices.

  Once more, they made a stop-over in order to question some of the locals. After several attempts, they managed to obtain some solid information. It came from an older woman whose name was Lorita Mendoza. A pleasant, rotund woman in her sixties, whose smile would light up New York City.

  Lorita welcomed the team, offering them a cool drink of limes and mint. She scooted a chair up to the table where they were seated and began to tell them what she knew. Her radiant face took on a serious expression, her dark eyes narrowing.

  “I know of such a place,” she began, leaning forward with intensity. “My son, Alfonso, used to wo
rk for this place. It is an evil place.”

  “Tell us,” encouraged Decker.

  “The name is Chronis Manufacturing Plant,” she told them. “Lito Chronis runs it. He is a bad man.”

  “Why do you say that?” Decker asked.

  “He would ask my son and others to do things. Bad things. If they didn’t do it, he would send men to beat them until they caved in and did what he wanted. My poor Alfonso. They broke three of his ribs and his arm because he found out about their illegal practices. Everyone in the city is afraid of Lito Chronis, but he will get what he deserves.” Her eyes flashed with anger.

  “Where is this business located?” Decker probed.

  “West side of the city. About four miles from here. The plant sits a short distance in from the ocean.”

  Decker pulled out a map and spread it out in front of her. “Can you show me on the map where we can find it?”

  Looking down, she pointed. “There. It is there.”

  “Thank you, Lorita, you are a gem,” Decker said. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a couple one hundred-dollar bills and pushed them toward her, grateful for the information. It could well be a dead-end he knew, but definitely worth looking into.

  Lorita shoved the money back. “No. No. Please, find him. Stop him. That is payment enough for me.”

  Decker patted her hand and slid the money back to her. “I can’t guarantee that, Lorita. I’m not sure if Mr. Chronis is the man we’re looking for. If he is, I promise we will do everything we can to close his business and put him behind bars.”

  “For the sake of my son, and all of the innocent people, I pray so.”

  They thanked Lorita for her kindness and for steering them in a direction that could be what they were looking for.

  Back on the road, they made their way west in the direction that Lorita had pointed out. They found themselves on back roads which were not maintained and deeply potted. Because of the heavy rainfall, the holes were filled with water, and as the tires rolled through the mire, the muddy pools spattered the windshield forcing Dax to turn the wipers on continually. The smears made it difficult to see.

  “They apparently don’t fill the window fluid on rentals,” Dax said disapprovingly and released a deep grunt as the jeep bumped through another deep pit.

  “Hey!” India said. “Slow her down!”

  Dax grinned. Like India to scold him. However, it was all in fun. “Where’s your sense of adventure, India?”

  “I think it got left at the last pothole.”

  They drove several miles before catching a glimpse of the manufacturing plant. Dax pulled off into a small alcove where their vehicle could not be seen and turned off the motor. The plant was impressive, covering a number of acres. It was settled back in the trees, its smokestacks pushing above the forest's canopy. In the distance, they caught a glimpse of the ocean. It looked like the property backed up to the water or had access, but it was hard to tell from where they were.

  “How about we sneak around the place and see what we can find out,” Decker asked, more a statement than a question.

  They climbed out of the jeep and wove their way through the pine woodlands, hoping to stay sheltered from the eyes of those who worked there. They knew they would have to come back for soil or water samples, and somehow, they would have to gain access to the property, which looked quite difficult with its tall cyclone fences, topped with barbed wire.

  Decker stretched out on the ground with his binoculars, searching the area for activity and a way inside. “This is going to be challenging,” he said. “I’m wondering if there is a way for us to use the Zodiac and come in from the backside.”

  “That’s a thought,” Dax replied. “Do you think the fence is electrified?”

  “I don’t see anything that would indicate it. But there is a possibility so be careful.”

  “If we can come up with some samples that test positive, we might be able to convince the authorities to help us,” Callie said.

  Decker nodded. “Our biggest problem is all of the no trespassing signs. If we’re caught, I’m sure we’ll all land in jail.”

  “But you’ll risk it anyhow.” Dax’s statement brought laughter from the group. It was obvious that Decker would pursue this lead as far as it would take them. So far, they had no proof. They headed back to the jeep.

  “I think tonight will be our best chance at getting in,” Decker said as they climbed in. “We’ll be less noticeable in the dark. I have a feeling that if they catch wind about what we are up to, they will not take it lying down.”

  “What gives you that impression?” Dax laughed.

  “Could it be that they tried to kill you?” Callie reminded him light-heartedly.

  “Oh, that!”

  “Be serious, Dax,” India said. “This is going to be a dangerous ploy. These guys don’t play softball—they are hard hitters. We need to be extra careful.”

  “You know we will be,” Dax said. “Neither of you need to remind me of how dangerous they are.”

  There was a loud whirring sound above the treetops, and they looked up to see a chopper closing in on them, the rotor blades slicing through the warm, damp air. The helicopter began to circle around the area; it was apparent that they had been spotted. Someone had probably ratted on them when they were asking around.

  “Keep low,” Decker yelled.

  He had no sooner said it when gunfire pelted the area, kicking up grass and dirt. Bullets flew past their heads, and the front window of the jeep shattered, sending a spray of glass in every direction. Bullets screamed around them, pinging off the fenders. The image of a man leaning out of the helicopter door with an AK-47 came into view as the helicopter dipped lower. They dove from the jeep and hid behind trees and whatever else they could find to take cover. The man let off a shower of bullets. Tree leaves and bark swirled through the air. Not having a clear shot at their bodies, he proceeded to demolish the vehicle. Decker started to run, grabbing Callie’s hand. “Stay as close to the trees as possible,” he hollered. The others ran behind him, dodging in and out of the tall pines. Behind them, dirt and debris were spiraling from the striking shells. It sounded like a war zone with repeated gunfire blasting around them as the helicopter continued its pursuit.

  They stopped when they lost the protection of the trees and now faced a field of four-foot high sorghum, still green but heading out. The helicopter circled back around, and they ducked back into the shelter of the pines, their chests heaving.

  “There is a farmhouse beyond the field,” huffed Decker, trying to catch his breath. “When the helicopter circles back behind us, we’re going to make a run for it. When it comes close, zigzag the best you can to make a difficult target.”

  They all knew the risk of leaving the shelter of the trees, but they had little choice. Callie felt the pressure of Decker’s fingers tightening on hers in an attempt to reassure her, but the tension between them was palpable. As soon as the helicopter stopped its onslaught of raining bullets and went behind them, they broke into a sprint across the field.

  The rotor’s throbbing added to the compression of their own hearts as they raced toward the small farmhouse. It seemed like a mile in the distance, though only a hundred feet away. They had been spotted, and the chopper was now barreling toward them, the tall sorghum flattening down with the downwash of the blades.

  The man in the doorway leaned farther to the side and positioned his AK-47. His finger closed on the trigger and gunfire erupted, heads of grain spiraling into the air as the bullets struck. When the helicopter took an abrupt turn to the left, the man lost his balance. His hand grappled for the doorframe, but his fingers could not keep hold. When the firing stopped, Decker looked back to see the man halfway out and the pilot leaning over as far as his shoulder harness would allow, trying to catch the man’s shirt to pull him back inside, but it was too late. The man plunged from the helicopter.

  With what energy he had left, Decker rushed back to the lifele
ss body and grabbed the rifle. He dropped to his back, raising the barrel and began shooting a trail of bullets at the helicopter. He could hear several shells ripping at the metal sides and, to his relief, the helicopter began to cough and sputter. A black cloud began to swirl around its frame, and it lurched precariously overhead.

  In a flash, the helicopter began a corkscrew dive, coming directly for them. Decker frantically pushed himself to his feet and took off on a dead run. The hairs on the back of his neck stood taut as he heard the explosive combustion of the helicopter as the rotors beat into the ground. Strips of metal blazing with fire shot through the air in every direction. The blast on impact threw Decker forward onto the ground behind the others.

  All of them stopped short and turned. They stood like statues staring at the burning mass feet away wondering how they had made it out with their lives.

  “Well, mate, you know how to show a friend a good time,” Dax gasped for air and reached out to help Decker to his feet.

  Decker laughed. “I think they know we’re on to them.”

  “What gave you that idea, mate.”

  “It doesn’t look like anyone is on this farm, or they would be out here by now to see what all the commotion is about,” Decker said. “Why don’t we see if they have a vehicle we can borrow.”

  They tromped through the field, grateful that the sorghum was green and still wet from the recent rain and headed for the house. There was an old pickup parked by the side of the barn. When they reached the truck, Decker poked his head inside. No keys, but he didn’t expect to find any. Climbing behind the wheel, he reached down under the dash and found a couple of the wires attached to the starter. Decker tied two ends together, and the truck jumped and spluttered, then the engine kicked in with a vibrating whine.

  “Yeah!” Dax hooted. “Where on earth did you learn that?”