Bluewater Bullion: The Seventh Novel in the Caribbean Mystery and Adventure Series (Bluewater Thrillers Book 7)

by Charles Dougherty

  "Sounds like fate brought you together, then."

  "I guess."

  "So did you know any of his family back then?"

  "Gerald's family?"

  "Yes. You said you grew up together."

  "Well, he didn't really have any close family. Just his old man. His mother died when he was little."

  "Oh. I got the idea he was part of this huge family."

  "Yeah. I guess that's technically so, but by now, they're all scattered to hell and back. Lots of distant cousins — nobody he even really knew, from what I could tell. Lot of the old Southern families are like that. He was kind of a loner. You from a big family, Liz?"

  "No. I was an only child of two only children, and both parents are dead now."

  "Me, too. Makes you wonder about families like the Yates's."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "Well, you'd think with all those cousins, they'd try to get to know one another."

  "I see what you mean."

  "You still offering juice?"

  "Sure. Coming right up."

  "Thanks. Nice talking with you, but I've gotta get back to work, here. Maybe one of these evenings I could buy you a drink. Or dinner?"

  "That would be nice." Liz handed him a moisture-beaded glass. "Sorry for the interruption."

  "No problem. Thanks." He nodded absently as he took the glass, his eyes focused on the screen.

  ****

  "Hey, Dani?"

  "Yes?"

  "I'm thinking we need to change our game a little," Gerald said. The two of them were alone in the cockpit. Liz was below cleaning up the galley after lunch, and Nick was still glued to his electronics.

  "What have you got in mind?"

  "Nick hasn't had a hit all day. I think we're off track; maybe this area's not on the way to anywhere from anywhere."

  "You're the boss, Gerald. Just tell me where you want to go."

  "How would you feel about sailing a grid closer in to Antigua and Barbuda?"

  "Much closer in and we'd be in their territorial waters," Dani said.

  "Right. Is that a problem?"

  "Not for me, but what if you find something?"

  "Finding something's what I'm trying to do." He grinned.

  "You can't take anything inside the limit without permits, and they're pretty tough to come by. The government wants their share, and they're worried about preserving archaeological value, too."

  "We could look, though. Right? As long as we don't pick up anything?"

  "Yes, I suppose that's so, but all your equipment might make the government a little suspicious."

  "I don't want to do anything illegal, or get you in trouble. If we find Phaedra, we could just mark the position and then go through all the right channels, if there's even anything to salvage. Mostly, I want to know if there really was a Phaedra before I write about it."

  Dani frowned, thinking. "I don't want to get Vengeance impounded, or anything."

  "Tell you what," Gerald said. "I'll sign a hold-harmless agreement, if you want. I'll make it good. If anything happens to the boat, or anything, you'd be covered."

  "You know what you'd be signing up to?" she asked.

  A charming grin spread across his face; he shook his head. "How much?" he asked.

  "An even million dollars."

  "Whoa! Vengeance is a beautiful boat, but I had no idea ... "

  "I thought maybe you didn't. I'd want a bond, if we did that."

  "You don't trust me? I don't blame you, I guess."

  "It's business," Dani said.

  He nodded. "I'll think about it.”

  Chapter 3

  "You know, this is the strangest charter we've ever done," Liz remarked.

  "No kidding. I can't believe they want to stay in that villa every night. You think they're gay?"

  Liz thought for a moment, taking a sip of coffee as they both gazed across the water toward the small village of Codrington, Barbuda. A narrow strip of low, sandy ground separated the anchorage from the shallow, protected lagoon. The village was on the other side of the lagoon, about a mile and a half away. The two men were taking a tour of the island, as Gerald wanted to get a feel for where his family had once held sway. "I don't think so. Nick hinted about going out for a drink or dinner with me."

  "That doesn't mean anything."

  "No, but the way he was looking at me when he thought I wasn't paying attention does."

  "Maybe. Lot of those guys are bi."

  "What guys, Dani?"

  "Gym rats."

  Liz shook her head and chuckled. "You're hopeless."

  "So are you going out with him?"

  "Maybe. He hasn't asked, yet," Liz said, dismissing the topic with a shrug. "You were having quite a talk with Gerald earlier. What's on his mind?"

  "He chickened out on that hold-harmless agreement I told you about last night."

  "That's a relief. Who wants all that red tape, anyway?"

  "Not me. I figured the amount would scare him off."

  "So what's he going to do if he thinks Phaedra's inside the 12-mile limit?" Liz asked.

  "He didn't say. He said Nick thought they should mark all the wrecks outside the limit and exhaust them first. If they find her outside the limit, there's no worry."

  ****

  Marilyn sat sipping coffee, the remains of her room-service brunch on the small table under the window. Her suite at the Admiral's Inn overlooked English Harbour; she idly studied the luxury yachts tied with their sterns to the quay. She knew that some were in the charter trade; she wondered what it would be like to cruise the islands aboard one of them. Perhaps when she was finished with her current project, she'd look into that.

  Checking her watch, she decided to call the investigator her lawyer had recommended. When she talked with him yesterday, he had nothing to report, but he had expected to know more about Gerald's whereabouts by today. Marilyn identified herself to the man's secretary and was put through to him without delay.

  "Good morning, Ms. Muir. Are you in Antigua yet?"

  "Yes. I got in night before last. Any news on where he's staying?"

  "Yes, some. There are two possibilities."

  "Well?" she asked, impatient.

  "He's chartered a yacht — Vengeance, it's called."

  "Oh, great!" Her voice dripped with sarcasm. "How the hell am I supposed to ... "

  "He's also rented a villa at a place called Jolly Harbour," he interrupted.

  "Any idea of what he's up to, then?" she asked.

  "No, but he's also got someone with him."

  "Somebody to warm his bed, no doubt," she said.

  "I don't know; no other indications that he's gay, but I guess he ... "

  "Gay? What are you talking about? He's got women all over the ... "

  "I don't have a name for his traveling companion yet. He's a ... "

  "What? A man?"

  "Definitely, Ms. Muir. I'm still waiting for more background."

  "When will you have something?"

  "A day or two. I could call ... "

  "I'd prefer to call you."

  "As you wish, ma'am."

  She disconnected and considered what she had learned. Two days ago, all she had known besides his reputation as a womanizer was that Gerald was planning a trip to Antigua. That much she had managed to get from his agent when she called posing as a journalist seeking an interview. His being in a villa presented certain logistical problems, although it might well be an opportunity once she managed to get him under her spell. The presence of this unidentified male companion was puzzling. Although she had denied it to the investigator, she reflected on the possibility that Gerald was a homosexual.

  If so, he kept it well hidden, but that could interfere with her plans. Of course, she thought, he could be bisexual. She pondered whether that might give her some leverage. Could she use a homosexual liaison to put pressure on him, to bend him to her will? Possibly. She would keep that in mind.

  Meanwhile,
she had to contrive a way to meet him. She had assumed he would be staying in a resort, where there would have been opportunities to stage what would have appeared to be a chance encounter. If he was dividing his time between a private yacht and a rented villa, her task might be more difficult. She consoled herself, remembering how much she enjoyed a challenge.

  ****

  "Have you figured out what's wrong with it?" Gerald asked as Nick studied the circuit board on the chart table.

  Nick shook his head, rubbing his chin with his right hand. "Nothing obvious. I was hoping to see some corrosion on one of the board-edge connectors, or maybe a loose jumper, but it all looks okay."

  "Can we keep on with just the magnetometer?" Gerald asked.

  "Waste of time. We'd have to retrace our search grid again once we got the sonar working. Otherwise, we'd have to dive on every magnetic anomaly between here and Barbuda."

  "Can it be fixed locally?"

  "If I can get it into a lab with some decent test equipment, I might be able to fix it. At least then I can figure out what's wrong. Not sure a local technician would add much."

  "Any idea where we'd find a lab like that?" Gerald asked.

  "Yeah, maybe. I looked in one of the guidebooks." Nick indicated the bookshelf over the chart table with a tip of his head. "There's a place in English Harbour that services all kinds of radio and electronics equipment. They might have the stuff I need."

  "Sounds like that's worth a shot," Gerald said. "I'll go up and talk to Dani about it, if you think that's the way to go."

  "Might as well, I guess. The book said there are a couple of pretty nice resorts there; good place to look for some babes to help pass the time if we have to wait on parts or something," Nick said.

  "I've seen you checking out Liz, you hound," Gerald chided. "Strike out already?"

  "No, man. Too early in the game to start messing around so close to home. We gotta work with these two, maybe for a long time. Don't want to complicate things. Maybe when we're closer to done, ... well, ... you know."

  Gerald nodded and turned to mount the companionway ladder. He was impressed with Nick; the guy knew his business, but he had street smarts, too. Gerald had the hots for Dani, but he hadn't considered the risk of pissing her off. Nick was right. It would be better to do his catting around a little farther from the workplace. He settled himself on the cockpit seat and grinned at Dani.

  "Nick get it fixed?" she asked.

  Gerald shook his head. "He wants to go to English Harbour. There's a repair shop there; he thinks they might let him use some of their stuff."

  "This afternoon?" she asked.

  "Right. That a problem?"

  "No. Not at all," she said glancing at her wrist watch and then at Liz.

  "I'll call about space on the quay," Liz volunteered. "Will you and Nick be staying aboard tonight?"

  "Nick said there were some nice resorts there. You know someplace convenient?"

  Liz thought for a moment. "The Admiral's Inn is right there in the national park at Nelson's Dockyard. It's nice, and you couldn't ask for anything more convenient. Want me to book you in there?"

  "That would be great. Two rooms, please." He reached into his pocket and extracted a credit card, passing it to Liz.

  Chapter 4

  "I'm beginning to feel excluded," Liz said, sipping from her glass of chilled Sancerre. She and Dani were at the table in Vengeance's saloon, finishing dinner. Their guests had left as soon as Vengeance was tied to the dock. The two men said that they would be back around 8:30 the next morning.

  "No kidding," Dani said. "It's easy money, but it certainly feels odd. It's like they're going out of their way to avoid staying aboard longer than they have to."

  "Wonder what Nick's got in that watertight case he guards so carefully?" Liz asked.

  "He keeps his laptop in there, but who knows what else?" Dani said.

  "His charts," Liz said. "I just realized it. He's careful to keep them out of sight — only takes them out when he's working on them."

  "You're right; he's quick to cover them any time I walk past the chart table while he's studying them. Guess they must have some wrecks marked that he doesn't want to share. He's careful about that laptop, too."

  "Yeah, it's got all the data from his side-scan sonar and the magnetometer," Liz said.

  "I suppose you can't be too careful in the treasure-hunting game," Dani said. "They must be doing their analysis in the evenings ashore."

  "That's a pain for them," Liz said. "Makes me think you're probably right about Yates looking for something more valuable than family mementos."

  "Nick told you he used to work for a treasure hunter, right?"

  "Yes, but he acted like he wasn't sure whether the guy was legit. He thought the man might have been just fleecing investors."

  "Nick learned to use that equipment somewhere. He seems to know what he's doing."

  "The Navy," Liz said.

  "Oh, yeah. Seems like an odd skill for a special ops type, but I guess you never know what they're up to."

  "He said he couldn't talk about most of what he did," Liz said.

  "If I told you, I'd have to kill you," Dani said, in a mocking tone.

  "Something like that," Liz agreed.

  "They all say that. Jerks; it means he didn't do anything worth knowing about."

  "Why do you say that?" Liz asked.

  "You ever hear Phillip say anything about his time in the military?"

  "No. Did he have a special ops background? I didn't know that."

  "My point, exactly. He's typical of the ones who really did stuff that nobody will ever know about. This guy's a poseur. He might have gotten through the training, but my bet is the only action he ever saw was in the bars."

  "So what're we going to do tomorrow? Sounds like we've got at least a day to kill before he gets the sonar working again."

  "I'll give the brightwork a little attention; we've got a few thin spots in the varnish around the cockpit coaming and the gunwales. Want to help?"

  "I might as well. I sure don't need to go grocery shopping. Wish we had known they weren't going to be taking their meals aboard. I'm over-provisioned."

  "I can tell; if you keep cooking like this, I'll have to start jogging or something."

  ****

  "I'm in love," Gerald said, staring at the tall, deeply tanned woman sitting by herself on the other side of the dining room. Her honey-blonde hair cascaded in waves over her bare shoulders, and he'd caught a glimpse of flashing emerald-green eyes when she glanced up from the book that held her attention. He watched as she shifted her long, well-muscled legs, the short, white skirt riding up on her thighs.

  Nick smirked. "Lust."

  "That, too," Gerald agreed.

  "Why don't you buy her a drink?"

  "She's avoiding my eye; I can't get her attention."

  "Wimp," Nick said. "Whaddaya got to lose?"

  As Gerald considered his response, the waiter approached.

  "Here's your chance. C'mon, go for it," Nick needled him.

  "Excuse me, Mr. Yates," the waiter said as he handed Gerald an engraved calling card. "The gentleman over there asked me to give this to you."

  Gerald looked in the direction of the waiter's discreet gesture, spotting a small, well-groomed man with shiny black hair drawn tightly back into a long ponytail. The man had on a linen jacket with dark slacks and a sport shirt that was open at the neck, the collar spread over the lapels of the jacket. His feet were in a well-worn pair of deck shoes, and his ankles were bare. He gestured with his head for Gerald to follow him as he stepped back into a dimly lit corridor. Gerald looked down at the card. "Marcus Aurelius Jackson," he muttered, a chill running down his spine. There was nothing on the card but the name, engraved in a classic typeface.

  He slipped the card into his pocket as he stood up. "Wait for me," he muttered as Nick raised his eyebrows in curiosity.

  The man was waiting in the gloom, smiling in a way that m
ade Gerald's skin crawl. As Gerald approached, the man nodded and turned, opening a door that led outside. Gerald followed him uneasily. When the door clicked shut behind him, Gerald saw the man with the ponytail stop and turn to face him, looking past Gerald and nodding, his sick smile still in place.

  "What ... " Gerald stopped as he felt his left arm being swept behind him by someone with a feather-light grip. He moved to snatch his wrist away, but he was slammed into the rough stone wall of the Admiral's Inn with stunning force. He felt himself being turned, almost as if by a dance partner, to face the smiling man with the ponytail. His left arm felt numb, and he realized that he was completely at the mercy of whoever was behind him.

  The man with the ponytail extended his left hand, grasping Gerald's right wrist and lifting his hand, holding it midway between their faces. With his right hand, the man grasped Gerald's little finger, his thumb on the knuckle, his index and middle fingers locking the digit in place. He applied pressure with his thumb, bending the knuckle backward. Gerald's eyes filled with tears of pain.

  "Mr. Jackson wanted us to say hello," the man said, still smiling. "He worries that you might forget him."

  "N-no!" Gerald protested.

  "No. Of course not," the man agreed. "You know, Mr. Yates, you're a lucky man."

  Gerald was unable to speak as the pain built in his finger. He moaned.

  "Do you know why I said you're lucky, Mr. Yates?"

  "Why?" Gerald whined.

  "Because for every week that a marker goes unpaid, Mr. Jackson has us break a finger. It's a sort of interest payment, you see." The man blinked, squeezing both eyes shut.

  Gerald noticed the trail of blue-green teardrops tattooed from the corner of the man's left eye down his cheek. He moaned again.

  "But Mr. Jackson told us you're special. He don't want us to break no fingers, because he said you gonna need them for scuba diving, or some shit like that." The man blinked again, and worked his tongue around in his mouth. He opened his eyes and spat in Gerald's face. "So you're lucky. For now, anyway. We jus' gonna bruise you some, so you remember that Mr. Jackson, he knows where you are." Without releasing Gerald's finger, the man kneed him in the crotch.