"Great. Sounds like that's everything we'll need," I said. "Thanks, Aaron."
"Hold on. We're not done. Your mission's gotten a little more complicated."
"Oh, good. I was thinking we might get bored."
"No worries on that score. Pay attention, now."
"Okay. Lay it on us."
"We're well into the analysis of the traffic associated with that server farm at Grissom's place. We still don't know what was on the servers, but we've picked up two important things. One is that the data center was mirrored. There's another data center somewhere that duplicates the functionality of the one at Grissom's. We're working on finding it; it appears to be functional, still. That's something else to ask Grissom and company about."
"Got it. You said two things."
"Yeah. The second one is super important. There's a PC down there in the place where the meeting is being held. We need for you to capture it, intact, and we need the person who is using it, also intact. That PC was controlling the server farm. It's probably the one that wiped the data. You still with me?"
"Yes. Sounds simple enough in concept, but it may be tough to do. The PC isn't likely to be a big challenge, but figuring out who uses it and keeping him alive — that may be a different story."
"Yeah, well you need to do both. The PC will probably be a high-powered, custom-built laptop, like gamers use. If we don't miss our guess, it will have the latest biometric security features, too. It will unlock with facial recognition and fingerprints, more than likely. Probably with a passcode required in addition. We won't be able to crack it without the owner's presence, and it's the only way we'll be able to get into that mirrored data center. You understand what I'm saying?"
"Yes."
"Questions?"
"Yes. Once we have the person and his computer, what are we supposed to do with them?"
"Good that you asked. Here's the biggest change in your mission. You're to capture Grissom, the PC owner, and anyone besides Grissom's peers. Waste the security people, waste Grissom's peers — Stringfellow, Theroux, and Cruz, for sure are there, but — "
"Who is Cruz?" Mary asked. "That's a new name."
"Sorry. I forgot we didn't put him on your target list earlier with the others. He's the honcho for Lavrov's Miami operation. Marco Cruz. What I was about to say is that we need to interrogate the others — Grissom, plus any other attendees besides Grissom's peers. His peers are expendable. Grissom is the priority, because he's the one who has a data center in his backyard. If you waste the others, so be it. Got it?"
I looked over at Mary. She frowned and shook her head. I shrugged.
"That may be a tall order, Aaron," I said. "Wiping them out is what we're good at, but taking prisoners is a different thing."
"Understood. I pointed that out to Mike and Bob when they briefed me. They said they have the utmost confidence that you two are the best ones for the job. Do what you have to do, but keep in mind that the PC geek, Grissom, and any unknowns are more important than the other drug bosses. Especially the unknowns — if Lavrov's not there, he'll have someone there to represent him. We don't think he'll be there in person, so we need to interrogate his representative."
"You keep saying we," Mary said. "That's Finn and me and who else? What are the two of us supposed to do with the prisoners once we have them? You want us to question them?"
"I was coming to that. Once you're in control, call me. We're on our way down there; we have a research vessel with a helicopter already in the vicinity. By late afternoon, I'll be aboard with a specialized interrogation team. When you give me the word, we'll swoop in and take the prisoners off your hands. By the way, don't assume the computer person is a male. We don't know that. Got it?"
"Yes," we both said.
"Anything else from either of you?"
"Yes," Mary said. "We'll recognize Grissom, Stringfellow, and Theroux from our briefing earlier, but you need to send us pictures of Cruz."
"On the way as soon as we disconnect. What else?"
"Finn and I have been kicking ideas around. We think Lavrov's more than just a Russian mobster taking over O'Hanlon's operation. There's too much that doesn't fit that scenario."
"Uh-huh," Aaron said. "I agree, but can you be more specific? What doesn't fit, in your view?"
"The data centers, mainly. O'Hanlon and Dailey were running their whole operation on the back of an envelope, almost. Even with the stuff they had on the corrupt officials and the finances for their activities, everything was on the thumb drive I stole from the Daileys' safe. So why do they need data centers?"
"Yes. That's where we came out, as well. We think this is a Russian government operation aimed at taking over O'Hanlon's network of crooked officials. The scope of their intentions goes beyond just running drugs and human trafficking."
Mary and I exchanged glances, but before either of us could speak, Aaron continued.
"We're doing homework on Lavrov, or whoever he really is. He's a mobster, all right, with a KGB background. He could well be working for a successor organization — FSB, or another Russian intelligence group we haven't discovered yet. He's a high-level operator, but still just a soldier. A general, maybe, if you want to think of him that way, but he's not the one making policy.
"Somebody up the line is calling the shots on this data-center business. Once they get their hooks into O'Hanlon's network, Lavrov's job will probably be to run the criminal side of things. That's a great distraction to cover their other activities, and it generates the cash to pay for everything."
"That's about where Finn and I came out."
"Great minds, and all that," Aaron said. "I planned to save that for later, but since you figured it out, you should know that the person with the PC isn't part of Lavrov's operation. That's our best guess, anyhow. We can't prove it yet, but it looks like that person answers to a chain of command that's parallel to Lavrov's. They both end in Moscow, though. So now you know why we want that person intact. Same goes for Lavrov, of course, but we don't think you'll find him there."
"Why would the person with the PC be there?" Mary asked. "I would think he'd be as leery of getting caught as Lavrov would be."
"Good question. Maybe that person has a cover that makes them appear unimportant. And Lavrov knows we're looking for him, but the computer person still thinks they're invisible. Anything else?"
Mary and I traded glances and shook our heads.
"No, we're at the harbor entrance. It's time for us to go find a spot to anchor," I said. "Send us those GPS coordinates and the photos of Cruz."
"Soon as I hang up," Aaron said. "See you soon. Check in with us before you attack, so we can be on standby. Figure we'll be there in ten minutes after you give us the all-clear."
"Will do," I said, disconnecting the call.
"Shall we douse the sails and take her in under power?" Mary asked. "That dogleg entrance channel looks tight on the chart."
"Might as well," I said. "The anchorage will be extra crowded, too. Fire up the diesel; I'll take care of the sails as soon as you're ready."
25
A little over an hour after our conversation with Aaron, we were at anchor in Elizabeth Harbour. After threading our way through the hundreds of anchored boats in Stocking Harbour and Elizabeth Harbour, we found a spot half-a-mile southwest of Fowl Cay. We were sitting in the cockpit, scanning our surroundings with the binoculars.
"I've never seen so many boats in one place," Mary said, passing me the binoculars. "I had no idea it would be like this. Why are they all here?"
I shrugged as I took the binoculars. "George Town's been a magnet for cruising boats for a long time. It's a jumping-off place for people headed for the Caribbean who don't want to sail offshore. You can island-hop your way here from the States without ever sailing overnight. Same for people northbound from the Caribbean islands.
"It's a pain in the neck, but if you're too timid to sail offshore or in the dark, it works, I guess. But once you leave her
e going south, you've got a couple of overnight legs to contend with, so people sit here waiting for perfect conditions. And you rarely get perfect conditions. A lot of them end up sitting here until it's time for them to go back to the States. George Town's often called Chicken Harbor, because it's where the faint of heart turn around and go home."
"But there must be hundreds of boats here, Finn."
"That's no exaggeration," I said. "In a typical winter, you can find four or five hundred boats crammed in here."
"Why would Lavrov pick this kind of place for a meeting?"
"I can't answer that. Maybe because it's remote, and visitors don't stand out. With all the cruising boats here, the visitors far outnumber local people for a lot of the year. Plus, if you want easy access to and from places where laws are lax, this fits the bill."
"Like where?"
"Haiti, the Dominican Republic, Cuba, some other, smaller island nations. Take your pick. There are plenty of countries close by where money can buy anything you can imagine. This part of the world is a smuggler's dream — has been, for centuries."
"What do you think about Fowl Cay?" Mary asked.
Raising the binoculars to my eyes, I studied the part of Fowl Cay's shoreline that was visible from our perspective. There was a sturdy-looking dock with a gazebo on the end. A fancy launch with a canvas canopy was tied alongside. I watched as a uniformed crewman helped a young couple with two children get aboard. When they were seated, he cast off the dock lines and motored away toward town.
"Looks innocent enough," I said. "A family with two kids just left for George Town in a touristy-looking launch. I would guess it belongs to the resort."
"I saw it tied up there," Mary said. "The operator was talking with another man, both wearing white Bermuda shorts and starched white shirts with epaulets. Think we should waste our time going over there to check it out?"
I thought about that for a few seconds. "We don't exactly have a lot to do between now and nightfall. You never know what we might learn. Plus, it gives us a reason to get a little closer to Dogfish Cay."
"That's so. We're a little far from Dogfish Cay to make out much detail ashore, but it doesn't look inviting. Like Aaron said, lots of sharp coral rock, and no sandy spots to land."
"Let's break out the dinghy and get it put together," I said. "Then we'll unpack the care package Aaron's people left for us and see what's there."
"All right. Sounds good to me. Guess I have to stand up."
"Yep. The dinghy's under your seat. You tired?"
"No, I'm okay. Just being lazy. Someday, I hope we can sail somewhere and hang out, just for the fun of it, you know? Like all these other people here."
"Yes, I know. We should make that happen. But first, we have to catch some crooks."
She opened the locker under the cockpit seat, and we dragged out a green nylon duffle bag. I wrestled it up onto the foredeck while she took three varnished plywood floorboards from the locker. Snapped together, they would give us a firm, flat surface in what would otherwise amount to an oversized inner tube with a fabric bottom.
I opened the bag and found a foot-operated, bellows-type pump with an attached hose on top. Setting it aside, I upended the bag, grabbing it by the bottom and shaking it until the rolled-up gray mass of the deflated dinghy slid out onto the deck.
Unrolling the dinghy, I attached the pump's hose to one of the two inflation valves and stood up. I worked the pump with my foot until the dinghy's forward air chamber began to fill. While it was still soft and wrinkled, I called out to Mary to bring the floorboards. We positioned them in the dinghy's bottom, and I resumed pumping.
"Did you see a bracket in the locker for the outboard?" I asked.
"So that's what that thing is. Yes, now that you say that, I can see how it works, but I was flummoxed by it. You need it now?"
"Bring it up here, yes. It's easier to get it to slide into place before all the fabric is stretched tight."
With the bow section of the dinghy full of air, I disconnected the pump's hose and closed the inflation valve on the dinghy. By the time I hooked the hose up and started filling the dinghy's aft air chamber, Mary was back with the bracket.
"Those four black tapered pins with the blunt points slip into those hard-rubber mounts," I said, as Mary stood, puzzling over how to attach the bracket.
"Aha! I see."
She squatted down and slipped the bracket into place while I continued to work the foot pump. In a few minutes, the dinghy was ready to launch. I tied its bow line to the nearest lifeline stanchion, and we lifted it over the lifelines, letting it slide into the water.
"I've only seen pictures of fold-up inflatables," she said. "It looks like an elongated doughnut."
"It does," I chuckled. "I've heard them called doughnut dinghies. They're not as popular nowadays. Everybody wants rigid, hard-bottom inflatables with big outboards, so they can zoom from place to place at 25 miles an hour. These old ones have their drawbacks, but they're easy to stow on a small boat."
"There are oars in the cockpit locker," she said.
"Good. Stick them in the dinghy while I get the outboard."
I mounted the little outboard. After two pulls on the starter rope, it sputtered to life.
"That was a lot quicker and easier than launching a rigid inflatable," Mary said. "Didn't even need a hoist for that little engine."
"No, but it will be slow — probably four or five miles an hour. It is convenient, and it stows out of the way. This is the way things used to be, back in a simpler time."
"You don't have a big outboard for the dinghy on Island Girl."
"No. I like to keep things simple."
"But you have a rigid inflatable. Why?"
"It's more rugged. Besides, these old doughnut dinghies are hard to find down island. Most people want the other kind. Mike probably ordered this one from somewhere in the States. Let's see what kind of goodies Aaron's folks left us."
"Before we go to Fowl Cay?" Mary asked.
"Yes. I think we should put the snorkeling gear in the dinghy. Did you look at the harbor chart for the water around Fowl Cay and Dogfish Cay?"
"Not beyond what I needed to bring Isabella into the anchorage. Why?"
"There are coral heads scattered pretty densely along a line from the southeast corner of Fowl Cay. They go almost all the way to Dogfish Cay, in fairly shallow water. After we go to Fowl Cay, we can snorkel our way through the coral and pretend we're looking for lobster. Gives us a reason to get closer to Dogfish Cay."
"Looking for lobster? Like to eat?"
"Yes, like that."
"How do you catch them?"
"Simple. You just dive and grab. They'll dart into holes in the coral, so we'll need sticks to poke them out."
"You think we'll catch any?"
"I don't know, Mary. That's not the point. It's just for cover, okay?"
"But I would love fresh lobster for dinner. That would be so cool, like eating flying fish from on the deck for breakfast."
"Well, maybe we'll get lucky."
"That would be nice, too," Mary said, leering and giving me a wink.
"Let's unpack our snorkel gear and get going, Vixen." That got a lascivious chuckle from her, but she led the way back to the cockpit and opened the lazarette locker.
26
There was a man in a white uniform tinkering with an outboard engine in the shade of the gazebo on the Fowl Cay dock. Mary and I let the dinghy coast to a stop against the dock near him. He looked over at us and smiled, walking over and squatting down to talk with us.
"Good day. May I help you?" he asked, with the slight British accent common among Bahamians.
"We wondered if the Fowl Cay Resort's restaurant is open to the public," Mary said, smiling up at him.
"Well, sometimes, yes. But only when we are between guests. I'm sorry that's not the case now. We have a large family group staying here for the next week. There are some good places in George Town, though. What kind
of food were you looking for? Maybe I can recommend a place."
I opened our little cooler and took out a beer. "Care for one?" I asked.
"I don't mind if I do, thanks," he said, reaching out and taking it from my hand and twisting the top off. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," I said.
"We read about the chef here," Mary said. "He was written up on a travel website."
"Ah, yes. He is famous. And he deserves to be. I'm sorry we can't accommodate you."
"Oh, we understand," Mary said. "But we wanted to ask. We've also heard there are lobster to be found among the coral heads around here. Is that so?"
He smiled as he took a sip of beer. Nodding, he said, "Yes, ma'am, sometimes. Were you wishing to buy? Or to catch?"
"We want to catch them," Mary said. "I'm sure we'll appreciate them more if we have to find them ourselves."
He grinned. "That is so. You may find some. Not too many people try this close to George Town. They think these coral heads are already picked over, you see. So they go far away." He chuckled. "Far away, where everybody else goes. But there are lobster here, yes. You follow the coral heads in the shallows down that way." He pointed toward Dogfish Cay. "But don't go too close to that island."
"Dogfish Cay?" Mary asked. "Why not? No lobster there?"
He shrugged. "Maybe some are there. My friends used to catch them there, before the people came."
"People?" I asked. "I read that Dogfish Cay was uninhabited."
"It was. But some people came. They stay there now and chase everyone away. So it is best to not go there."
Villains and Vixens Page 13