by Scott Cook
“Are you aware of what’s been happening with Ray and his businesses?” I asked.
Angie nodded, “Yes. I know about the cargo ship crew. I know about his suspicions about the shrimp boat. I also know about the fire the other day.”
I glanced at Jackie and then said, “Did he tell you about what happened on the yacht the other night?”
Angie frowned ever so slightly, “No… is everything all right?”
I smiled and told her the story. When I got to the part where Scott leapt over the railing after the thief, the older woman whistled softly.
“Just about the same time,” I continued. “Scott’s grandparents’ home was burgled, too. Two men entered and broke into their safe… while they were there.”
“Ay dios mio…” Angie breathed.
“His grandfather was shot, but he’s all right,” Jackie stated. “He’s a tough old bird. Was in the Navy most of his life.”
Angie’s frown had turned to a scowl, “Es malo… what were these men after?”
“That’s just it,” I replied. “We think they were after the same thing. Scott’s family has a famous relative or two back during the Napoleonic Wars. One of them left a set of journals that have been passed down to her family generation after generation. In one of these journals is a map and a land claim deed to a large piece of land in Columbia. A bit of land that’s called El Dorado on the map.”
Angelique’s finely arched brows rose, “That old legend? I thought it was just a story.”
“It probably is,” I said. “Maybe somebody just thought that this huge area of land would be their own City of Gold. Anyway, what’s odd is that while it makes sense for somebody to think the Jarvises might have the map and deed… although how anybody would know I can’t imagine… why would they go looking for it in your son’s safe aboard his yacht?”
“This is a good question…” Angelique said thoughtfully. She certainly seemed puzzled but there was something in her manner or maybe in her eyes that didn’t quite match. I can’t really say, just a feeling I suddenly got. “Do you think the thief thought maybe your novio brought it on the boat with him?”
I shrugged and shook my head. I doubted that could be true, as it wasn’t known that we’d all even be aboard until a few hours before. Finally I said: “I doubt that. We believe that these people, probably connected to the drug dealers and some others we’ve discovered, believed that Ray would have the map. Or he might.”
“Well, I don’t know…” Angie said in confusion.
“Can you tell us anything about your family?” I asked. “Anyone back in Cuba maybe… or Ray’s father?”
A look of irritation seemed to cross her face. It was so fast I thought maybe I’d imagined it. But her attitude was kind of too cheerful afterward. Something wasn’t right here.
“We don’t have any family over there,” She said. “After Ramon and I came to the States and got established, my uncle and I sent for my mother… but she passed away about ten years ago.”
“What about Ray’s father?” Jackie asked. “How come he didn’t come over with you during the boat lift?”
Another quick glimpse of something. This time I thought it was anger. Anger at us? Anger at Ray’s father?
Angelique sighed, “It was a long time ago, what does it matter?”
“I don’t mean to upset you, Angie,” I said gently. “I’m not accusing you of anything… I’m just trying to get a picture so that we can help Ray.”
She seemed to relax ever so slightly, but her entire demeanor had definitely changed. I don’t know how or why, but I guess that I hit a nerve with my question about Ray’s father.
“I was a young girl then,” Angie replied. “I was just a peasant. Living in a small village west of Havana. I was only eighteen when I met… met Ramon’s father. He was a young man, but still older than me. Twenty-five. He was visiting and staying at the inn where I worked… he was handsome and kind, and we were together for several months…”
“He wasn’t Cuban?” I asked softly.
“No… he was from South America,” Angie said. “We were in love… or I thought so. One day he told me he had to leave. It seemed very sudden… I wanted to go with him but he said it wasn’t possible. He said that he’d send for me, though, and that I wouldn’t wait long before we were together again…”
“And he never did,” Jackie said kindly.
Angie sighed, “No… I never heard from him again. Not long after, I found that I was pregnant with my Ramon. It was only a few years later that we came here to Miami. He was just a little boy.”
“So Ray is only half Cuban?” I asked. “Where was his father from in South America?”
Angie shifted in her chair uncomfortably. I couldn’t imagine what was so distressing about a man she’d known over forty years earlier. Yet something was bothering her.
“What does it matter now?” Angie finally replied.
Jackie and I looked at each other. I think she was thinking the same thing. I took in a deep breath.
“Senora… I don’t know what it matters, but you seem to think it does… so maybe it does. Does Ray know who his father is?”
Angie suddenly shot to her feet, her face going crimson with rage… Like… for real rage!
“I’m very busy and I’ve given you enough time. Get out of my office!”
“What the fuck…” Jackie muttered.
We stood and I locked eyes with the older woman. Her brown one’s blazed with anger but I thought maybe pain as well, “Why are you hiding it, Mrs. Tavares? If you don’t want us… or Ray… to know… then maybe it’s time you stopped keeping your secret. Because things are getting out of hand and you might do more damage by staying silent.”
“Get out of here,” Angelique said in cold fury.
I sighed, “Okay… come on, Jackie…”
Jackie and I walked out of the restaurant and got back into my GLC. For a while, we just sat there. I think she was as surprised as me by the woman’s outburst.
“Goddamn, Lisa,” Jackie said. “You sure found her button.”
“I guess…” I said. “What’s the big deal anyway?”
I was just reaching for the starter when Angelique Tavares stepped out of the main doorway. Her face was set in hard lines and she began to walk… or maybe stalk… across the parking lot and toward the back corner. I started my Mercedes and grinned at Jackie.
“Guess we’re gonna tail her,” I said.
I’d just put the SUV in reverse and glanced down at the backup screen when Jackie cursed. I looked up and saw a black sedan come around the corner from the other side of the parking lot and screech to a halt next to Angelique. Before any of us could react, a man jumped out of the passenger side and grabbed her.
“Shit!” Jackie said again, yanking her pistol from her purse and jumping out of the car.
I put the GLC into park and fumbled in my bag for my own gun. I heard Jackie shouting and looked up. The man from the passenger side had been joined by another man from the back passenger side. He’d grabbed Angelique and was pushing her into the car. The first man had a gun of his own trained on Jackie.
Jackie fired, just missing the man and putting a bullet into the open passenger door. Angelique was in the car now and both men jumped in and slammed the doors.
The car accelerated right for Jackie, who stood behind the next car from me training her weapon. The sedan didn’t stop and Jackie didn’t fire. Instead, she dove out of the way as the luxury car sped past, nearly clipping her.
“Go, go, go!” Jackie shouted as she dove into her seat and slammed her door. “I couldn’t risk firing. Might have hit the mom! Fuckin’ shit! Can this thing move?”
I grinned at her, “Oh yeah, buckle up, buttercup! We’s agoin’ on a chase.”
I slammed the car into reverse, backed out and put it in forward again, stomping on the gas and tearing out onto Calle Ocho after the sedan. We were maybe two cars behind them and traffic was pretty busy as yo
u might expect in a big crowded city like Miami.
One of the reasons I’d chosen the GLC was that it was a sporty SUV. Powerful engine and it had a transmission that you could shift almost like a standard. The car had great acceleration and cornered pretty well for a SUV.
I swerved out in front of a delivery van and the black sedan was closer. Calle Ocho, or 8th Street, runs one way east through downtown. This should make it easier to follow the car even though they knew who we were.
“Can you get closer?” Jackie asked, rolling her window down and brandishing her Sig.
“Tryin’…” I said, trying to get around another sedan and having little luck.
The sedan suddenly turned sharply onto Brickell Avenue, its rear end sliding a bit as the driver didn’t even slow down. I gritted my teeth.
“Hang on!” I shouted, taking the corner at almost the same speed. We didn’t slew around but I swear I felt the tires on my side of the car leave the ground. We were right behind the black sedan now, which was tear-assing up the Avenue at well over the speed limit.
Jackie pointed her gun out the window but didn’t fire.
“What?” I asked.
“Dammit!” She said. “I can’t shoot! I might hit Angelique! I can see her in the back seat… I’ll have to try when the car turns again, maybe get a tire or something.”
“Shit!” I grumbled, shifted into overdrive and rammed the gas pedal to the floor.
The GLC leapt forward, its wide base and good tires gripping the ground and accelerating us faster than I thought. Both Jackie and I screamed as my front bumper rammed the back bumper of the sedan, bouncing us off and making the other car fishtail slightly.
“Oo-rah!” Jackie whooped. “Oh shit… duck!”
She lowered her head and I did so as much as I could. I was driving the damned thing after all. We heard the sharp crack of gun shots and three holes appeared in my windshield. I felt the thump of another bullet hitting the front of the car too.
“Son of a bitch! My brand new ride!” I shouted. “Ju wanna go to war! Okay, we go to war, ju fuckin’ cockaroaches!”
Jackie laughed maniacally at my perfect tony Montana as she peeked up over the dash and thrust her arm out the window. “I think he’s gonna turn, get ready!”
I don’t know how she knew, but she was right. The sedan once again barely survived a left turn onto Third Street. Jackie squeezed off two shots that I think hit the trunk and maybe the left rear tire just before I followed the car, taking the turn a little slower, though.
Just then, my Bluetooth began to warble with an incoming call. Jackie and I met each other’s wide eyes in astonishment.
“Incoming call from… Scott Jarvis,” The pleasant female voice announced.
“What’re you shittin’ me, man!” Jackie exclaimed.
“I know, right?” I cranked. “Who the hell calls in the middle of a car chase?”
I don’t know why, but I actually answered it. I guess there was no reason not to, since it was hands free.
“Hola chica!” Scott said cheerfully. “How are you ladies doing?”
“Oh, just fuckin’ great!” Jackie grumped. “Here he goes again… watch it!”
I swerved as Jackie ducked down and I hunched low over the wheel, “You’ll have to excuse her, baby. She’s a little excitable.”
“Why, what’s up?”
“Oh… just a high speed car chase,” I said casually, as if we were sitting by the pool. “Some dudes in a black car snatched Ray’s mom and we’re chasing them through downtown Miami while they’re shooting at us. How’s your day going?”
“Christ… I can’t let you out of my sight for a minute!” Scott muttered. “I really am a bad influence. Be careful, huh?”
“Sound medical advice, Bones,” I quipped. “Anything more useful to add?”
“Yeah! Ram your bumper up his ass again!” Jackie shouted.
“Again? What the fu—“
“One moment please,” I said as I stomped down on the accelerator. This time when we hit, I didn’t let off. I was actually pushed up against the car, its bumper and mine crumpled a bit. I could see Angelique look back through the rear windshield, her face white with fear and her eyes wide.
“Fuckin’ duck, woman!” Jackie shouted.
Almost as if Angelique had heard, which she couldn’t have, her head vanished below the seat. Jackie fired three times through the back windshield before the sedan broke free and made yet another crazy left turn onto Thirteenth Avenue.
It was too fast and I couldn’t follow this time. I swore and took the next left, hoping that we’d see them again or that I could cut back over to thirteenth and catch up. The wisps of smoke coming from my radiator didn’t give me confidence, though.
“I think I hit the dude in the front seat,” Jackie said. “Damn… where are they now?”
“Probably gonna turn onto Seventh Street and head for Biscayne Boulevard,” I offered. “That’d be my guess. Or maybe keep going to Ninety-five.”
“You guys okay?” Scott asked.
“We’re fine,’ I said. “This shit is gonna devour my deductible, though…”
“There he is!” Jackie shouted, pointing out the windshield.
A black car crossed in front of us, only half a block away. It was headed west on Seventh.
“Ha!” I said triumphantly. “In the words of my sexy man…”
“That’s me!”
“Which are in the words of Samuel L. Jackson… hold on to ya’ butts!” I said, slowing only enough at the corner to make sure I wouldn’t pull out in front of a bus or some shit. I actually did, but there was enough room to pull it off.
Just as we got onto Seventh, I heard a loud bang and my wheel suddenly went squirrely.
“Shit!” Jackie cursed. “They stopped!”
I caught the briefest glimpse of the sedan pulled over to the side of the street and a man in a shooter’s stance lowering his hands and jumping back into his car. As my SUV began to spin and horns blared and tires screeched, I knew we’d failed.
The GLC slid sideways to the other side of the street, hit the curb and went over on my side. There was a horrible screech of metal, the sound of crunching glass and a whoosh of air as the side, drivers and passenger’s airbags deployed.
I could hear Scott’s shouts but couldn’t quite understand him. The only thought that went through my mind, which made me laugh crazily when I realized that I was both conscious to appreciate it and relatively unhurt, was that my insurance premiums would skyrocket.
24
October 17th, 1797
Edward Pellew, Knight of the order of the Bath and Post Captain of the Royal Navy stood on his quarterdeck with his hands behind his straight back. His broad shoulders were squared and his handsome features set in a rigid mask of contemplation. His hazel eyes were turned over the port quarter where two strange sails could be seen on the horizon nearly hull up from the deck.
HMS Indefatigable was close hauled on the port tack bound for the American port of Charleston where Pellew was to deliver Mr. Montecomb Fortescue and his suite. Fortescue was to assume his new posting there as His Majesty’s representative to serve as both a semi-envoy as well as to oversee British trade and the care of visiting Royal Navy vessels.
Additionally, Pellew and the Indefatigable were to show the flag as well as provide moral and even military support to the Americans who were engaged in a quasi-war with the French over issues of trade infringement along the Atlantic coast and in the Caribbean. It was thought that the heavy forty-four gun frigate, recently razeed from a sixty-four gun third rate would do this admirably.
There were few frigates sailing that could match the mighty Indi in firepower. Her twenty-six long twenty-fours on her gun deck, her dozen twelve pounders carried on the foc’sl and quarterdeck were formidable enough. However, the heavy frigate also carried half a dozen forty-two pound carronades on these two decks. Genuine smashers that could deliver devastating blows at close range.<
br />
The Americans, Pellew knew, were in the midst of building up a true navy. At that time, they had only a small handful of frigates, a smattering of smaller brigs o’war and revenue cutters, yet their frigates were powerful indeed. Pellew knew that a new forty-four gun vessel was even then being fit out. She was called Constitution and once launched, she’d take her place alongside her sister ships President and United States as the most awesome frigates ever to sail. Some were even bandying the term super-frigate about.
Indefatigable herself was a hundred and sixty-eight feet on her gun deck. Large for a frigate, thanks to her original design as a two-decker. Yet even she would be overshadowed by Constitution, whose gun deck would be just over two hundred feet. With her thirty-four twenty-fours… four of which were chasers… and twenty thirty-two pound carronades, she’d be a tough nut for any of her enemies to crack. Carrying a broadside weight of metal that could give even a third rate two-decker considerable trouble. Particularly when such firepower was married to the speed and maneuverability American warships were becoming known for.
All of this and more was running through Sir Edward’s mind as he watched the two unknown vessels creep up toward him. He’d had an uneventful passage from the Channel, having seen nothing until passing Bermudan waters several days back. And now, with the American coast less than a day’s sail away, his frigate was being pursued it seemed.
“On deck, there!” The lookout called down from the mizzen cross trees. “Vessels are ship rigged! Both flying American colors!”
Pellew extended his glass and spied the two sails. He could just make out the darkness of their upper hulls on the rise. He could also see the Stars and Stripes flying out to looward now from their fore masts. He frowned and lowered his glass.
“Do you believe it, sir?” The first lieutenant, Peter Albury presumed to inquire.
“Not for a moment, Mr. Albury,” Pellew replied, a smirk playing across his features. “But we’ll play along for the moment, however. Signal what ships, if you please.”