"Okay, no problem. We're lining up one of those big offshore speedboats that carries the cruise-ship tourists around, too. They won't get away on that boat so easily again."
"Good," Jones said. "Got anything else for me?"
"Not on the project, but about Stevens, he's a ... "
"Don't worry about it. I'll take care of him. Call me direct on this from now on. It's too hot to put anybody else on the desk now."
Jones disconnected the call and thought for a moment, trying to make sense of what he knew. He decided that it was time to watch this Marcus Jackson and see what they could learn. He had already had his researchers check the man out; he was indeed a big-time bookmaker and was known to finance some of his better players. Rigo Rodriguez and Chen Lee handled collections from recalcitrant clients, and were rumored to kill on Jackson's command, although there was no proof — only a few missing gamblers.
He dialed Dix Beauregard's office number from memory.
"Beauregard," he heard, after a few seconds of music on hold while the receptionist put the call through.
"This is Jones."
"Yes, Mr. Jones?"
"I believe you represent a person in whom we both have an interest. You know the party I mean?"
"I believe so. What do you ... "
"I think we need to find out how much gambling debt that person has. Can you do that? Acting as his attorney?"
"I'm not sure, I ... "
"Look. Just call the man who holds his markers. Tell him who you are and who you represent. Tell him you're authorized to pay him in full, but you need the amount."
"Jesus! I don't want to cross that guy. He's ... "
"You're not going to cross him. You're going to arrange to pay him. You'll make him a happy man."
"I don't understand. How am I supposed ... "
"Just get the amount. Tell him you'll be back in touch to arrange a cash delivery on behalf of the client. No names, now. Be sure of that, or you'll scare him off. You with me so far?"
"Yes."
"Good. Once you have the amount, call me back at our private number. Just leave a voicemail with the dollar amount. Nothing else. I'll take it from there."
"Why can't you just call Jack ... "
"No names, damn it!" Jones interrupted. "You need to call him. The man is smart. He's not going to talk to you when you call. He's going to check you out first and call back, or send somebody by your office with a message. You are who you say you are; it'll go smoothly. There's no way he'd deal with an unknown quantity like me. It's gotta be you."
"I see your point, but what about the money?"
"However much it is, it's peanuts in the overall scheme. We'll split it."
"But why are we ... "
"To eliminate confusion. If it's just a gambling debt, the guy who holds the markers will go away. If he doesn't, we'll know that he has a different interest. You follow me?"
"Yes. Brilliant."
"Good. I'll wait for your message."
****
Marc Jackson was puzzled by the phone call from Dix Beauregard. He knew who Beauregard was, of course. The man was one of the most prominent lawyers in South Georgia and one of the wealthiest men in the southeast. Jackson already knew that he represented Gerald Yates. After a few minutes' consideration, he wrote a dollar amount on a slip of plain notepaper and sealed it in an envelope. He scrawled Mr. Dixon Beauregard, Esq. across the envelope and keyed the intercom on his desk.
"Send Mickey in," he barked.
In seconds, a slender, short, well-dressed man with fine features and blue-black skin entered without knocking. Jackson handed him the envelope. The man glanced at it and nodded, turning away. As his hand touched the doorknob, Jackson spoke.
"From your hand to his, Mickey."
"Yes, Marc. I understand."
Twenty minutes later, Jackson's phone rang.
"Yes, Ginny?" he answered.
"A man who won't give a name says he has a package to deliver to you. He said to mention 'Yates's lawyer.' Should I put him through?"
"Yes." Jackson waited, hearing the click as Ginny dropped off the line. "Go ahead," he said.
"You know Tommy's Bait Shack in Thunderbolt?" the unidentified caller asked.
"The shrimp joint with the trash holes in the center of the tables?" Jackson asked.
"That's the place," the caller said.
"What about it?"
"Send the same messenger. Nobody else, because we know him by sight now. Okay?"
"Yeah. When?" Jackson asked.
"How soon can he make it?"
"Thirty minutes, give or take."
"That'll be great. Have him get a table. He should order five pounds of steamed shrimp to go, and a beer to drink while he waits."
"He's a Seventh Day Adventist," Jackson said.
"What the hell ... "
"He doesn't drink." Jackson interrupted the question.
"Ice water, then," the caller said.
"Okay. Then what?" Jackson asked.
"Those shrimp are really good. Gerald Yates said so. You'll like them."
****
Vengeance was on a westerly heading, about five miles offshore. Under power with no sails up, she was rolling through an angle of about 30 degrees. Thompson was still unconscious from the blow to his head. Gerald, face down on the cockpit seat with his hands and feet bound, was retching. He had long since emptied his stomach into the foot well, drawing taunts from Rigo, who was beginning to look queasy as well. Chen, Liz, and Dani were unaffected by the boat's motion.
Dani and Liz were sitting behind the helm, Rigo's pistol trained on them as he sat facing aft, leaning his back against the coachroof. Chen had been below, rummaging through lockers. He had come up a few minutes ago and searched Thompson's pockets, extracting a keyring which he took back below. He reappeared and spoke softly to Rigo, laying a hand on his shoulder with a lover's touch. Rigo looked up at him and smiled. Their exchange wasn't lost on Dani and Liz. Dani smirked, and Liz nodded. Chen stepped back behind Dani and Liz, peering over the stern rail, studying the receding shoreline. He turned, scanning the horizon.
"This is good," he said. "Stop the boat. Let's party."
Dani rose to her feet, one hand on the helm as she throttled back and took the transmission out of gear. Rigo grabbed a fistful of Gerald's hair and jerked him into a sitting position, facing aft. He settled next to Gerald, sitting up against him, wedging him into the corner of the cockpit.
"You gotta watch the show, Geral'. This is all because of you." Rigo giggled. "Liz, you come sit here with us; you gotta watch too. You an' Dani, you should be more careful 'bout who you take on this boat. See, my frien' Geral', here, he bring some bad shit down on people. Jus' 'cause you aroun' him, Dani gonna get hurt bad. Maybe you, too. We have to see how quick Chen get satisfied. You ready, Chen?"
Chen put his hands together in an attitude of prayer and faced his audience, nodding. He turned back to face Dani and bowed from the waist toward her.
"What are you?" Dani asked. "Some kind of martial arts fairy?"
The expression on Chen's face didn't change, although the color rose in his cheeks.
"He does this shit you never even heard of, bitch. You gonna see who's a fairy," Rigo said.
"You two been sleeping together long?" Dani asked. "Which one's the man? This scrawny little bastard? Or you, with the ponytail?"
"Keep it up bitch. Maybe you'll find out. Chen gets pretty excited when he draws blood."
"He make you bleed often, does he? What's he do? Bite you? You guys got AIDS or anything? I don't want to ... "
Chen sprang into the air, pirouetting. His right foot shot out, but Dani had stepped back casually, just out of range. As he recovered, she said, "Now, Liz," and stepped into Chen, stomping his left instep and then driving her knee solidly into his groin. He doubled over and she took his head in both hands and smashed the bridge of his nose into the rim of the helm. He struggled to gain enough room to strike, b
ut she kept her body pressed tightly to his. He wrapped both arms around her and began to bend forward, putting increasing pressure on her spine. She grabbed both of his ears in her fists and head-butted him, hanging on as he reared back away from her. She tore first one ear and then the other away from the sides of his head, causing copious bleeding. Stepping back away from him, she noted with satisfaction that she had broken his nose.
"Had enough?" she asked, turning to glance in Liz's direction, inviting Chen to attack. Anticipating his move, she turned back and met his charge, thrusting up with her right palm to catch his chin. She heard his teeth crack as his momentum joined her own, snapping his head back. She followed through with all of her 115 pounds, knocking him over the stern rail. She watched as he slowly came to the surface, floating face down, the blood from his facial injuries staining the water around him.
Turning back to face Rigo, she bowed from the waist, mocking Chen's behavior. Straightening up, she took a moment to study the tableau in front of her. Liz sat, relaxed, on the rim of the cockpit. Rigo's pistol was held loosely in her right hand. Rigo was moaning, his left hand clutching his right forearm, a broken bone protruding through a bloody wound.
"Nice, Liz. Compound fracture. How'd you do that?"
"Two steps; he was stubborn about hanging on to his pistol. He got really agitated when you started the trash talk about him and Chen. You think maybe they're really ... "
"I don't know. I just did it to provoke him. It's a cultural thing, I think. Chen didn't care, but these Cubans, with their macho thing, they're pretty easy if you question their masculinity."
"You got that right. He was so busy trying to get a clear shot at you that he forgot all about me. Gave me plenty of time to grab the winch handle."
"That's how you broke his arm, then?"
"Right. The first break. But he wouldn't let go of the gun, so I trapped his elbow under my knee and sat up; that's how he got the compound fracture, silly boy."
"Do you have your rigging knife?"
"Of course." Liz reached in her pocket and passed the knife to Dani.
Opening the knife, Dani approached Rigo, who still had Gerald wedged in the corner of the cockpit. He flinched as she drew within arm's reach.
"Relax, Rigo. I'm just going to cut Gerald loose. We'll get to you in a few minutes."
"Whaddabout Chen?" he mumbled.
"He's gone, poor thing. With the current that runs through here, he'll be miles away before he bloats and comes to the surface. That's if he doesn't make a meal for something big."
"You k-killed him," Gerald stammered.
"I don't think so. He was alive when he fell overboard; I'm certain of that. He's probably drowned by now, but I'd say he died of natural causes. He should have known better than to go swimming while he was unconscious."
"What about Rigo?" Gerald asked.
"Now that's a different story. He's obviously still alive. I'm pretty sure he wants to tell us something. Is that right, Rigo?"
"Fuck you, bitch."
"You bisexual? Here your partner's not even dead for but a few minutes and you're trying to put the moves on me?"
"Shouldn't we call the police? Or the Coast Guard, or somebody? On the radio?" Gerald asked.
"Why would we want to do that?" Liz asked. She had gone below and come back with a cold compress, which she held to the knot on the side of Nick's head.
"We've got to do something with Rigo."
"You're right, Gerald," Dani said. "What do you think, Rigo? You want me to call the cops?"
He glared at her.
"I'll bet you do, don't you. They'd get somebody to fix that arm up and put you in a nice cell with some local boys. You'd have a grand old time, wouldn't you?"
"Fuck you," he muttered. "Call 'em if you want."
"I'd rather not. Things get complicated when they get involved. They might think I killed Chen, and I don't have time for that."
"Jesus, Dani. You can't let this bastard go," Gerald protested.
"No. No, now that you mention it, I don't think I can." Dani turned to Liz. "Liz?"
Liz put the compress down beside the still unconscious Nick and picked up Rigo's pistol. She thumbed the safety off and put the muzzle against Rigo's forehead.
Rigo drew back away from the pistol, his eyes round in panic.
"No!" Gerald yelled.
Liz looked at Dani. "We wanted to ask him some questions, didn't we?"
"Right. Rigo, what were you and Chen after?"
"Ask him," he said, inclining his head toward Gerald.
"She asked you, Rigo," Liz said, grasping his right hand.
He flinched at her touch.
"That must be painful," Liz said. "If I pull on it, will it ... "
"No! Don't!" Rigo said. "If you promise not to shoot me, I'll tell you everything."
"Sounds reasonable," Dani said. "How about it, Liz?"
"Sure. There's already too much blood on the teak decks, anyway."
"I forgot that. This jerk shot a hole in our deck for no good reason except he can't shoot straight. Deal's off, Rigo. Sorry. I don't think you know much anyway."
Dani took the pistol from Liz and pointed it at Rigo's nose from six inches away. He closed his eyes and mumbled a prayer. Dani shifted her aim and pulled the trigger. He screamed at the pain from his shattered kneecap.
"Glad you missed when you shot at my knee. Sounds like it must hurt. Now I'm out of patience. It's time to head back in. Talk, Rigo, or I'll pop the other knee."
"Marc Jackson sent us to collect a g-gambling debt from Yates. $250,000. That's all. Honest. We just wanted to scare him; Chen wasn't really gonna do nothin' bad to you, see."
"Uh-huh. I gave you a chance to back out when we were leaving the dock. Remember that?"
"Yeah."
"Then I gave you another chance to maybe save your worthless life. Remember?"
"Y-yeah," he mumbled.
"Well, you've got one last chance to make a choice. Okay?"
"Yeah. What is it?"
"You want me to shoot you and get it over with?"
"No. What do you want?"
"I'm thinking maybe Chen didn't drown. Maybe the water revived him."
"So?"
"So maybe you could save him. If you don't want the other knee shot out, ask Gerald to help you over the side."
"B-but I'll d-drown."
"Maybe. Maybe not. Stay here and I can guarantee you'll die. Screaming, at that, because you've seriously pissed me off. I've got days of work to do to clean this mess up, and it's all your fault."
"A life jacket?" he pleaded.
"Sorry. Don't have one to spare." She put the pistol against his good knee.
"Don't! I'll go. Help me, Geral'."
Gerald tried to stand and stumbled. "I c-can't."
"Liz?" Dani asked.
Liz nodded. She hooked her hands under his right arm and Dani took his left. They half-dragged him out of the cockpit onto the side deck and rolled him under the lifelines.
"Good luck," Dani called as he drifted away, struggling to keep his head out of the water. "Hope you and Chen live happily ever after."
Chapter 12
Marc Jackson finished counting the money from the paper bag Mickey had delivered. He put the neatly banded stacks of bills into a heavy brown envelope and turned to the safe in his credenza. Once he had locked the money away, he turned back to face Mickey.
"No sign of anyone unusual in the shrimp place?" he asked.
Mickey shook his head.
"Wonder how the hell Beauregard managed it? You know those people, right?" Jackson asked.
"Yes. He must have somehow switched the bag in the kitchen. You want me to ... "
"Nah. It doesn't matter. We got the money. Nobody followed you back?"
"I didn't see anybody," Mickey said, "but I never saw them watching Beauregard's office when I took that message to him, either."
"Yeah, but it's one thing to stake out a place without anyb
ody noticing."
"True. I would have spotted a tail. I was extra cautious because of carrying all that cash. Didn't want to get busted with it, or anything."
"Yeah. This is the biggest single payment I ever collected. I was pretty damn sure I was gonna have to let Rigo and Chen kill that sorry bastard. I wonder where he got the money? Maybe he really did find sunken treasure. I figured that was bullshit he was giving me, trying to buy time to skip, but who knows?"
"You could ask your nephew."
"Damn! I forgot about him; I better call him. He and Chen were gonna waste one of those broads on the boat Yates chartered this afternoon."
"It'll be okay. If you don't stop them in time, just think what it will do for your image. Yates is a wuss; he'll tell everybody. Make the next guy think twice about trying to stiff us."
"Yeah, but it's bad business. Yates is square with us now; I don't want him too scared to bet with us again, especially if he's struck it rich." Jackson picked up the phone and dialed Rigo's cell phone number. He listened as the call went to voicemail.
At the tone, he barked, "It's me. The man is paid up; you boys forget about him and those women and come on home."
He turned to Mickey and shook his head. "Shithead. If he wasn't my sister's boy, I'd run the bastard off. Him and Chen both."
"They do a good job. Chen's a scary little bugger, and people think Rigo's nuts. They make a good team," Mickey said.
"I guess."
****
Nick Thompson had regained consciousness, but he was seeing double. Dani had encouraged Yates to take him below and make him comfortable on one of the settees while she and Liz cleaned up the mess in the cockpit.
"Except for the bullet hole in the deck, it doesn't look any worse than if we'd butchered a big tuna up here," Liz remarked as she sprayed the cockpit with the saltwater wash-down hose. Dani had moistened the bloodstains and sprinkled liberal amounts of powdered laundry detergent over them, allowing it to soak while she and Liz hunted the spent brass from the gunshots. They had already dropped Rigo's pistol over the side.
"Lucky he missed when he took that shot at you," Liz said. "Did you swerve, or was it my imagination?"
"I swerved; he had that look in his eyes. I could tell he was dying to shoot somebody, the sicko."
Bluewater Bullion: The Seventh Novel in the Caribbean Mystery and Adventure Series (Bluewater Thrillers Book 7) Page 7