"Yeah, okay. I see. Just a couple of days, huh?"
"It's probably going to take more than a couple of days to untangle everything, Bert. But I can't start the process until we've reported him lost."
"Okay, I understand. You stressed at all? I mean, like, what if — "
"Shut up, Bert. Leave this to me. Your job is to help me relax. Come on below; let's get a little rest before we leave tonight, lover."
Oscar Jefferson leaned back and put his feet on the desk, willing himself to relax. Canaday was no better or worse than any of the other hustlers that he bankrolled. He had to stay on top of all of them.
There was always the option of kicking ass, but that was his least favorite way to manage people like Canaday. While there was a certain satisfaction in having one of his people reduce a hotshot like Canaday to a quivering, whimpering lump of flesh, it wasn't an efficient way to do business.
Besides, the person who needed a boot in the rear was O'Toole, and using muscle on somebody like the Senator was out of bounds. Kicking O'Toole's ass was not an option. Killing him was a possibility, but beating him up wasn't.
Eliminating O'Toole would send a strong signal to the surviving players. While that could be useful in some situations, it wouldn't get them the waiver they needed to drain the wetlands where the new golf course community was going to be built.
Canaday had already transferred the money to O'Toole's offshore account. At least that's what Canaday had said the last time Jefferson had talked to him. He was sure the Senator would deliver, but they needed to make it happen, and fast.
Guys like O'Toole and Canaday didn't understand. They seemed to think Jefferson could just write checks for several million dollars and wait around for them to get their part done. They didn't know where he got the money.
The men whose funds Jefferson managed weren't patient, and they weren't hands-off managers. They wanted steady progress.
When he heard the tap on his office door, he swung his feet to the floor and sat up. "Come in," he said.
His secretary peered around the edge of the door. "Mr. Jefferson?"
"Yes. Did you get Canaday?"
"N-no, sir. It was strange. A woman answered his cellphone; I think it was his wife. The voice sounded familiar from the times I've called him at his house. She said he wasn't there right now."
"So? When's he coming back? What did you tell her?"
"That you needed to talk with him about a project you were working on together. I asked when she expected him back, but she said, 'I don't know when he'll be back, besides he's retired.' And then — "
"Wait a second. Retired? She said Canaday was retired?"
"Yes, sir. And before I could leave a message, she hung up on me."
"She hung up on you? You sure it wasn't a cellphone problem?"
"I tried calling right back, but it went to voicemail. Then I tried the other number you gave me, the satellite phone. It did the same thing."
"Keep trying. Maybe you can reach him through his office, or try his lawyer. Let me know the minute you get through, please."
"Yes, sir."
7
“What did Sharktooth have to say?" Connie asked, after Paul came back on deck. He'd gone below to take the phone call, leaving her in the cockpit with Friday.
"He's not having any more luck with the immigration people than I did. Seems his connections are in customs. I guess that makes sense, given what he does. So we're going to be responsible for you while we're in Dominica," he said, turning to look at their guest.
"How do you mean, responsible for me?" Friday asked.
"Until they know who you are, and your nationality, we have to vouch for you; we can't leave you there," Connie said.
The man shook his head. "I'm really sorry to put you out. I'll do whatever I can to help figure out who I am. Should we go somewhere else?"
"The problem will be the same," Paul said. "None of the little countries down here want to risk getting stuck with a stateless person. Not unless you're rich enough to make it worth their while." Paul grinned. "That's a joke. It'll come out all right; don't worry. We'll figure it out. First, we need to get a doctor to check you over and make sure you're okay, then we'll worry about identifying you."
"Sorry. You guys sure saved me. I hate that it's turning into such a pain for you."
"Did Sharktooth get anywhere with the security net?" Connie asked.
"No. He talked to the woman who runs it. They'll put out the word when we give them the go-ahead, but they didn't have any reports of missing cruisers."
"Why wait until we give them the go-ahead?" Connie asked.
"Sharktooth suggested it, in case we get lucky with fingerprints and photographs."
"What's the security net?" Friday asked.
"Oh, it's short for the Caribbean Safety and Security Net," Connie said.
"It's a marine SSB radio net," Paul said. "They pass messages back and forth among the cruising boats about where there are crime problems. Some of the newbies are skittish. The folks that have been around a while are a little more relaxed. Some of the long-term folks call it the paranoid net. It's run by volunteers."
"So who's this Sharktooth person?"
"He's a friend of ours who lives in Dominica," Connie said. "He had the idea of checking with the security net to see if anybody knew anything about you, or how you might have ended up washing ashore at Isla de Aves."
"You mentioned prints and photographs?" Friday asked.
"Right. The police will fingerprint you and make some mug shots. They'll check with Interpol to see if they have a match for your prints, and my old partner in Miami will run them, as well."
Friday's brow wrinkled, but he didn't say anything.
"You must have fallen overboard," Paul said.
"Yeah," Friday said. "I've been thinking about that. It's the only thing that makes sense, isn't it?"
"So far, it is," Paul said. "But what doesn't make sense is that nobody's reported you as missing."
"The only way that adds up is if you were single-handing," Connie said.
Paul watched the play of expressions on the man's face as he thought about that. After frowning for several seconds, Friday shook his head. He looked down at his hands in his lap and said, "I don't know. I've been trying to remember. Bits and pieces kind of float in and out, like. I remember being on a boat, but only in snatches. Like when I flushed the head a while ago, I was surprised it was electric. I expected it to have a hand pump."
"So you were on a boat, then," Connie said.
"Yeah," he said. "Well, at some point, anyway. And I knew how to raise the sails, remember?"
"Has anything else like that come to you?" Paul asked.
"No ... yeah, maybe. Dominica keeps sounding familiar, for some reason. And when I was looking at the plots on the chart, so did Grenada. But I don't feel like I've ever been there, you know? Just like they were somewhere I might have wanted to see, or something."
"When you remember things about the other boat, are there other people on it?" Connie asked.
The man narrowed his eyes and looked away. "No," he said, after a moment.
"No memories of other people, or a struggle?" she asked.
The man didn't answer. Paul caught Connie's eye and shook his head slightly. She gave a brief nod.
"Don't strain for the memories," Paul said. "They'll come in their own time. I'd better fix us some lunch." He went below again.
"I kept getting voicemail at Mr. Canaday's office, so I did as you suggested and called his lawyer. Sorry it took me so long, but she was in court. Her secretary got a message to her, and she called back while they were in recess."
"And?" Oscar Jefferson asked.
"She says Mr. Canaday's office is closed until further notice, and — "
"Closed? His office is closed?" Jefferson said, his eyebrows rising. "Until further notice?"
"Yes, sir, that's what his lawyer said."
"Did she know how to reach
Canaday?"
"She said Mr. Canaday and his wife were on a sabbatical. She doesn't know when they'll be back."
"Be back? They've gone away?"
"Yes, sir. She said they'd taken their yacht to the Caribbean islands."
"And she doesn't have a way to get in touch with them?"
"No, sir. I asked her. She suggested email or Mr. Canaday's personal cellphone."
Jefferson stared at the papers on his desk through slitted eyes, the muscles in his jaw jumping. "Call the bank and see if that last wire transfer to Canaday went through."
"Yes, sir."
"And let me know immediately."
"Yes, sir," she said, backing out of the office and closing the door.
Jefferson opened the top drawer of his desk and took out an old-fashioned cellphone. He turned it on and waited for it to power up. When it had a signal, he pressed one of the number keys for a second or two. He saw the dialed number in the display and raised the phone to his ear.
"That you, Oscar?"
"Yeah," Jefferson said.
"What's up?"
"I need you to find somebody."
"No problem. You got a name and address, or a phone number?"
"Yeah, but it's not that simple," Jefferson said.
"Okay. Who're we talking about?"
"Steve Canaday."
"Steve Canaday? He's missing, or what?"
"He's supposed to be sailing, down in the Caribbean," Jefferson said.
"Sounds like you maybe don't believe that. What's going on?"
"I think he's skipped out with a lot of my money. He was supposed to set up a meeting between me and Senator O'Toole, but he didn't, and now I can't find the son of a bitch."
"I see. You want me to find him and maybe ask him a few questions. Like that?"
"Yeah, like that," Jefferson said.
"What if he won't talk?"
"Handle it any way you want, but keep him handy until I've recovered the money. We may have more questions for him. You know what I mean?"
"I understand, Oscar. Do you have any information on that yacht?"
"Nothing but the name. Windsong, it's called."
"Shit," the man on the phone said.
"What?" Jefferson asked. "You know something about it?"
"Yeah. I know there's probably only about a million boats named Windsong. You know where he keeps it?"
"The times he took me out, we left from a marina at Miami Beach."
"The one right down on the inlet? At the south end of the beach?"
"Yeah. That's the place."
"Okay. That helps. I'll call you once we get a lead."
"Good enough," Jefferson said, disconnecting.
Gator Jaw and the senator stood side by side on the fishing pier, leaning on the railing as they watched the small-boat traffic in the distance.
"So, what's on your mind?" O'Toole asked.
"You levelin' with me?" Gator Jaw asked. "About Canaday?"
"What do you mean, Gator Jaw?"
"You sure you ain't workin' on nothin' with him?"
"I don't think I've ever even met him. I only know who he is from reading about him in the business news." O'Toole's brow was wrinkled; he turned to face his friend. "Why?"
"He's got a project cookin'. Gonna build a fine new golf course community."
"Okay, but what's that got to do with me? I haven't even heard about it."
"You sure?" Gator Jaw asked.
"You're startin' to sound like a broken record," O'Toole said. "What the hell's goin' on?"
"Canaday's been raisin' money for the development. Jefferson is rumored to be in for maybe a hundred, two hundred million bucks, already," Gator Jaw said.
"I'm not part of it," O'Toole protested. "Why would Jefferson think I was working on it with Canaday?"
"Word is Canaday told some people you were in."
"But I'm not. Why would he tell them I was in?"
"Well, this here project of his, it requires drainin' some wetlands, see. The environmental impact would be pretty significant, even by Florida's standards."
"So?"
"So, you're on the Senate Committee on Environment and Public Works."
"Shit, Gator Jaw. Is this goin' where I think it's goin'?"
"Most likely. Canaday told some people you were set to help make this project happen, even though the tree huggers won't like it."
"I don't know anything about it."
"I believe you, Willie. Problem is, there's some people think you signed on to clear the way for it."
"Canaday told people that?"
"I reckon so. That's what I'm pickin' up from several folks."
"And what about Oscar Jefferson? How's he figure in this?"
"Oh, he's just a go-between, kinda."
"Who's he goin' between, then?"
"The folks I was talkin' to and Steve Canaday. They give Jefferson some of their spare cash and he dresses it up pretty and feeds it to people like Canaday, who can invest it in theoretically legitimate businesses."
"And those folks, would they be your clients?"
"Now, Willie, you know you don't really want me answerin' that kind of question."
O'Toole stared off into the distance for a moment. He nodded and turned to face his old friend. "How much have they given Canaday?"
"Well, it'd be better if we jus' stayed focused on the relevant amount. We don't need to talk about their total investment in the project. There's all kinds of options on the property, an' mineral rights, an' such. Right of way for roads, shit like that. It gets into some real money for this kind of development."
"What's the relevant amount, then?"
"You understand I'm piecin' this together, Willie. Hearsay, like. The only way to be sure is to talk to Jefferson, and he ain't exactly gonna be open about these things. We're dealin' with an educated guess, okay?"
"Okay. So what's the educated guess?"
"Ten million to twenty million."
"Dollars?" O'Toole asked, eyebrows arching.
"These here people only deal in dollars, Willie."
"And this amount, why is it 'relevant,' as you put it?"
"It's what was earmarked for gettin' the committee's approval."
"Jesus. You're saying that Canaday raised that kind of money to bribe me and a few other people?"
"Everybody knows you don't come cheap, Willie. Me, I would have figured he was lyin'. I know you better. That ain't near enough money to get your attention." Gator Jaw punched O'Toole in the shoulder and laughed.
"Fuck you, Gator Jaw. This is the first I've heard of this whole scheme."
"Yeah, I figured as much. That Canaday feller, he was prob'ly jus' blowin' smoke."
"Why would they believe him?"
"He's got a track record, Willie. And Jefferson, he does, too. He was the one told the folks I heard it from."
"Jefferson thinks I can be bought for between $10 and $20 million?"
"Not exactly. He thinks you done already been bought, Willie."
"That's why he was calling me?"
"The folks I talked to figger he was callin' you 'cause Canaday done disappeared. They been leanin' on Jefferson to make somethin' happen; they want to see results for their money."
"I don't know anything about this, Gator Jaw." O'Toole swallowed hard. "You gotta believe me."
"Oh, I believe you, Willie. The question is how we gonna make Jefferson and his backers believe you."
"Should I call him back? Set up a meeting?"
"Uh-uh. Not yet. We need to do a little research our own selves."
"What do you mean?"
"Word is, Jefferson's put some people to work lookin' for Canaday and checkin' to see if he sent the money to you already."
"How're they goin' to do that? Trace the money, I mean?"
Gator Jaw shrugged. "I don't know, Willie."
"Well, what kind of research did you have in mind?"
"Them people you've used before, maybe. The black ops gu
ys. Spec whatever?"
"SpecCorp?"
"Yeah. Them."
"What for?"
"To watch Jefferson's people, and maybe find Canaday first. We don't want you gettin' mixed up with Jefferson directly. That'd be bad, politics-wise. Ain't no good could come of it. Once we know what he's got and what we want to do about it, I can arrange some back-channel contact with him."
8
Jorge Salinas helped himself to a slice of the pizza that he was sharing with Leon Contreras and Miguel Alvarez. They were in Leon's hotel room, comparing notes on their day's activities.
"O'Toole met Ryan on the fishing pier not far from his office," Miguel said. "We were able to pick up most of what they said with the parabolic microphone. Want to hear the recording?"
"Not just yet," Contreras said. "Give me a summary, please."
Miguel nodded. "Skipping the bullshit, Ryan told Senator O'Toole that Jefferson was funneling drug money to Canaday. Canaday was gonna build some kinda golf resort." He took a bite of pizza.
"Okay," Contreras said. "So how does O'Toole figure into all this?"
"Canaday told Jefferson that he was paying off O'Toole to get him to help allow some wetlands to be drained for the development."
"Great!" Contreras said. "We got him tied to the drug deal, Art Jansen's murder, and now bribery."
Jorge shook his head, frowning. "O'Toole claims he doesn't know anything about it."
"Ryan said Canaday claimed to have passed as much as 20 million dollars to O'Toole," Miguel said.
"Jesus!" Contreras said. "That's a lot for a bribe."
"Yeah, but O'Toole was supposedly going to spread it around some Senate committee on the environment. He's the chairman," Miguel said. "But O'Toole really sounded like he didn't know anything about the whole mess."
"He says he never got any money," Jorge said. "And Canaday never even talked to him."
"But Jefferson claims Canaday already paid O'Toole," Miguel said. "At least that's what Ryan got from his sources."
"So, how'd they finish up?" Contreras asked.
"Ryan told O'Toole to hire SpecCorp."
"SpecCorp?" Contreras said, chuckling. "Slow learners; that didn't work so well for them last time."
Under Full Sail - A Connie Barrera Thriller: The 7th Novel in the Series - Mystery and Adventure in Florida and the Caribbean (Connie Barrera Thrillers) Page 5