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

by Charles Dougherty

  "I thought he was your boss."

  "Yeah. So did he. That was part of the problem. I made the odds, I handled the money, and Marc acted like a big shot."

  "So you owe me, kinda."

  "Yeah, kinda. You figure we'll be square if I help get you through this next day or two?"

  "Sure, kid, but if you change your mind, or need an investor, you keep me in mind. Rigo told me you were good people."

  ****

  "Shit. That's the problem with locally acquired equipment," the leader of the commando team dispatched by Jones complained.

  "Come on, quit bitching. We could have had a RIB sent in with the other gear," the man working on the recalcitrant outboard replied.

  "Yeah, but the orders were to blend in. We woulda stuck out big time with a seven-meter camouflaged RIB. Any luck?"

  "No. It's dead. Ignition module, probably. We'll just have to run on one engine."

  "Well, at least we know they're chasing a sailboat. They won't be going too fast. Just hope we can catch up with them before they get to their target."

  "All we got to do is get within range for the Javelin. If we can see 'em, we'll nail 'em," the gunner assembling the shoulder fired missile system said.

  "Yeah, long as they don't get to the sailboat before we catch 'em."

  "Tip that dead engine up out of the water to reduce the drag and let's go," the leader said.

  Moments later, they were skimming over the waves in the brightly painted excursion boat.

  "We're making better than 40 knots. I'm amazed. Wonder how fast this damn thing will go if it's got both engines?" the man at the helm asked.

  "The guy said 60, but that was fully loaded with maybe 35 or 40 people aboard. Makes a difference without that extra weight, I guess," the gunner said.

  "We might salvage this mission yet. How long a head start did they end up with?" the leader asked.

  "Maybe 30 minutes, outside," the gunner said.

  ****

  Vengeance was charging through the moderate chop on a close-hauled course at about seven and a half knots. The wind had shifted to an east-northeasterly direction overnight, raising a moderate chop. As the bow cleaved the waves, the wind blew the spray diagonally across the foredeck, creating an ever-changing series of tiny rainbows.

  Marilyn had moved back onto the coachroof, her camera safely out of the spray. She was enchanted by the play of the early morning sunlight and the colors in the spray and was trying to capture it for possible use in a magazine article. Gerald sat in front of her to the right side, allowing her to rest the camera on his shoulder for added stability.

  Dani and Liz were in the cockpit enjoying the rambunctious sail. Liz had the helm and Dani crouched at the mainsheet winch, easing or sheeting in the mainsail at every little shift in the 20-knot breeze. Nick, as usual, was below with his instruments, having just trailed the sensors over the stern a few minutes ago.

  Intent on sailing the boat, none of the four on deck noticed the dark gray RIB until it whipped out from behind them and drew alongside, its big pneumatic tube pressed hard against Vengeance's hull on the windward side. Before Dani could react, two men with pistols scrambled aboard and the RIB fell away. Liz noticed that a line from the RIB's bow had been looped over the midship cleat and that the line was paying out rapidly as the RIB dropped back off their stern, following in their wake about 50 feet back.

  One of the men held his gun on Yates, barking, "Be still, Gerald. Don't make me shoot anybody."

  "Mickey?" Yates asked, eyes wide.

  "Everybody shut up!" the other man barked, firing his pistol into the air. "Where's Thompson?" he asked, as Nick emerged from the companionway.

  "I'm Thompson." Nick raised both hands and froze.

  The pistol barked again, and a red hole appeared in Nick's forehead as the back of his head splattered across the foot of the mainsail. His body fell into the cockpit at his killer's feet. The man kicked him out of the way, training his pistol on Dani.

  "You, you get behind the helm with the other bitch."

  Her eyes locked on his, Dani complied, glaring at him. He smiled at her. "Bold little bitch, aren't you?" he remarked. "Cuff Yates to the mast, Mickey," he barked, not looking away from Dani.

  Mickey held his pistol in his right hand and secured Yates with a pair of handcuffs. "Done," he said, his pistol now trained on Marilyn.

  "Good. Bring the other bitch back here."

  As Marilyn stepped into the cockpit, the killer said, "Back there with the other two."

  Marilyn stood on Liz's left; Dani was on Liz's right side. Mickey hung back, standing behind the killer, who said, "You, at the helm, heave to right now."

  Liz turned the bow into the wind, the sails making a loud racket as they fluttered for several seconds. As the bow passed through the eye of the wind, the sails filled on the opposite tack. The two headsails were back-winded, counteracting the drive of the main. Vengeance was held motionless, except for a gentle up and down movement as the waves passed beneath her. The pressure of the wind in her sails stabilized her as she drifted downwind at about a half a knot.

  "Well done," the man said, grinning. "She heaves to nicely. Beautiful boat, by the way." He studied the three women for a moment, making eye contact with each before moving on. "My name is Roberto Rodriguez. My friends call me Berto. I think we're gonna be friends, so I want you to introduce yourselves. You first." He pointed the pistol at Marilyn.

  "Marilyn Muir," she said. "If it's money you're after, name your price. I'm rich."

  "Well, well. Lucky for you. Rich is good. I'm happy for you, Marilyn, but this ain't about money. Not yet, anyway. We'll get to Yates's gold, but that's afterwards. I got somethin' I need to do, first." He pointed the gun at Liz. "Next? Who're you?"

  "Liz Chirac."

  "Nice to meet you, Liz. You rich too?"

  "No."

  "Too bad. But you're young. With your looks, you could end up rich if you play your cards right and find the right guy. Just don't wait too long." He shifted the gun to Dani. "And you must be Dani Berger."

  "That's right, asshole."

  He laughed hard, doubling over. "I shoulda known, from the way you stared at me. I like you; you got guts. I'm gonna start with you."

  "My lucky day. Too bad it's not yours."

  "Watch the smart mouth, bitch. You're gonna go down screamin' for mercy, but it can always get worse, you know."

  Dani glared at him.

  "Don't you want to know why? Come on, bitch. Play the game. It'll buy you time."

  "Okay, Berto. Why?"

  "You killed my son, Rigo. Know how I know that?"

  "How?"

  "Marc Jackson told me. Said you were bragging about it. That true?"

  "No."

  "No? You sayin' you didn't tell Jackson that?"

  "No, that's what I told him."

  "So now you're tryin' to say you didn't do it?"

  "No, I killed Rigo."

  "Then why'd you say no the first time?"

  "Because, it's not true that I was bragging about it. I never brag."

  "You're a real smart ass, you know that? I'm gonna fuck you up real bad, bitch. But maybe I'll do your two girlfriends first, let you watch. Like they say, anticipation. What do you think, huh?"

  "I think it must be hereditary."

  "What?"

  "Yeah, I'm sure it is. You're a faggot, just like your chickenshit son Rigo. Must be your fault he was gay. Stupid, too. I know stupidity's hereditary. Is Mickey your martial arts fairy?"

  "Come here, you little bitch!" Rodriguez screamed, spittle flying, his face turning bright red.

  As Dani stepped obediently toward him, he drew back the pistol and swung it toward the side of her head. She ducked the swing and drove her right fist into his solar plexus with her weight behind it.

  He doubled over and she trapped his right arm, extending it and locking the elbow. He screamed at the pain from the hyperextended joint as she forced him to his knees.
She kept the pressure on and shifted her stance for better leverage, intending to break his arm.

  She saw Liz moving out of the corner of her eye and thought that she was going for Mickey. Glancing toward him, she saw that he was pointing his pistol up into the air, nodding.

  "Go ahead, Liz. He's got it coming," Mickey yelled.

  Puzzled, Dani put her weight on Rodriguez's elbow, hearing it snap as he screamed again. He gasped, suddenly silent, and she saw that Liz had buried the marlinspike on her rigging knife in the man's kidney. He shuddered and went limp, slipping to the deck and moaning.

  Dani disengaged and spun, launching herself at Mickey. He stepped back, taking her charge but offering no resistance. She backed up and cocked her leg for a kick.

  "Wait!" Mickey yelled, holding the pistol toward her, grip first. "We're on the same side."

  Dani took the pistol and backed up, leveling it at him. "Liz?" she called.

  "It's true; he could have shot you any time," Liz said.

  "Don't shoot him, Dani. Liz is right," Marilyn said.

  Dani lowered the gun, but kept it pointed in his direction. "Gerald?" she called.

  "Yes. I've known Mickey for years. I don't know what's going on, but he's okay. Somebody unlock these damned handcuffs."

  Mickey raised his eyebrows, looking at Dani. "May I?"

  She nodded, intent on his every move as he reached in his pocket and took out a key. He stepped to the mast and released Gerald.

  "What's going on?" Dani asked, as the two of them came back to the cockpit.

  "I'll tell you as much as I know," Mickey said, "but we need to make it quick before some of Rodriguez's thugs start wondering about him."

  ****

  Mickey talked as he loaded the bodies into the dark gray RIB, now tied alongside Vengeance. He stood in the RIB, guiding the corpses into place as Dani and Liz rolled them under the lifelines.

  "He shot Marc just because he wouldn't shut up, I guess. The guy was a real psycho — never seen the like."

  "Why were you and Marc with him?" Gerald asked.

  "I came down to try to find Rigo and Chen. They dropped out of sight after you paid us off."

  "I what?" Gerald asked, eyebrows and voice rising in surprise. "But I ... "

  "Well, I should say Dix Beauregard paid us for you, I guess."

  Gerald's look changed from surprise to perplexity.

  "Anyway," Mickey continued, "We figured something strange had happened. Marc tried to call them off after we got the payment, but he couldn't get an answer on their phone. Then you called." He looked at Dani.

  "You called Marc? I'm lost." Gerald said.

  "I'll explain later," Dani said.

  "Marc didn't believe you at first when you said Rigo and Chen were dead, so I came down to see what I could find out. Next thing I know, Marc has called Rodriguez and the two of them show up here. Rodriguez was bent on revenge."

  "Why'd he shoot Nick? Nick didn't have anything to do with ... " Gerald said.

  "Who knows. Crazy. He probably figured Nick was the most dangerous one aboard, with his SEAL training," Mickey said, interrupting Gerald.

  "Where are you taking them?" Dani asked, looking at the bodies.

  "Rodriguez borrowed this boat from some of his local people. They'll come looking for him in an hour or two. I'm going to take the boat in close to shore and arrange Marc's and Rodriguez's bodies to look like they were wrestling for the gun and Marc stabbed him just as Rodriguez shot Marc. The wounds are perfect. I'll swim ashore and disappear."

  "So you think Rodriguez's cronies will put it down to a disagreement, then?"

  "Yeah. The guy was a known crazy."

  "Who was he, besides Rigo's father?" Dani asked.

  "He ran a big drug smuggling operation — they move all the stuff from South America through the islands into south Florida. I have to get going."

  Mickey cast off the bow line and started the big outboards. In a couple of minutes, the RIB was lost against the shoreline several miles away.

  Chapter 24

  Dani was standing on tiptoes with a bucket of soapy seawater and a scrub brush, cleaning the bloodstains from the foot of the mainsail. Liz stood by with the seawater wash-down hose; she rinsed the sail when Dani stepped back. After the third scrubbing, Dani paused. She and Liz studied the sail.

  "What do you think?" Dani asked.

  "Looks good for now. We'll know better once it's dry."

  They went back to the cockpit, where Gerald sat staring blankly into space. Stepping around him, Liz picked up her rigging knife from the seat beside the helm. She swished the knife in the bucket that Dani still held and wiped it with a piece of toweling that Dani handed her.

  "See any blood on the teak?" Dani asked, as she scrutinized the cockpit seats.

  "No. Guess the bleeding was internal. The marlinspike didn't leave much of an entry wound, probably."

  "Not like a knife," Dani agreed.

  Liz released the locking mechanism that held the marlinspike in its extended position and folded the knife, slipping it into the pocket of her shorts.

  Turning to Gerald, she asked, "You okay?"

  When he didn't respond, she added, "Gerald?" in a louder tone.

  He jerked his head around to face her, staring at her as if he'd just noticed her presence.

  "Are you okay?" she asked again.

  "I didn't tell Dix to pay him," he muttered.

  "What?" Liz asked.

  Dani put a hand on Liz's shoulder. "He's in shock. He'll be okay. I guess we should head back in."

  "I guess. Hey! Where's Marilyn?"

  "Check below," Dani said, after a quick glance around the deck. "I'll ease the main and get us moving."

  Liz ducked through the companionway, disappearing below decks. She was back in less than a minute.

  "She's in the head; she said she's feeling a little faint," Liz reported as she helped Dani trim the sails.

  "Nick's dead?" Gerald asked, sitting up. "Where's Marilyn?"

  "She's okay, Gerald," Liz said. "She's in the head; she'll probably be up in a few minutes."

  "And Nick?"

  "Nick's dead. Remember? Rodriguez shot him."

  "Who? Who shot him?"

  "Rodriguez," Dani said, frowning at Liz and shaking her head.

  "Who's Rodriguez? Why'd he shoot Nick?"

  "We don't know, exactly," Liz said. "It's all going to be all right, Gerald. Just take it easy. We're heading back to the villa, and Marilyn will be up soon."

  "Maybe Nick's at the villa," Gerald said. "Was Mickey here? Mickey Semmes?"

  "Yes, but he's gone now," Liz said. "Who is Mickey, anyway?"

  "Marc Jackson's partner," Gerald said. "He's a good guy. Jackson's mean, though. Is Mickey coming back?"

  "I don't think so," Liz said.

  "Good. I don't have the money right now."

  "The money?" Liz asked.

  "I owe them $250,000. Plus some interest. I can't pay it right now."

  "Mickey said that somebody had paid them for you, Gerald. Remember? Somebody named Dick?" Liz said.

  "Dick?"

  "Dick Beauregard, maybe?"

  "Dix. Dix Beauregard."

  "That sounds right," Liz agreed.

  "Why would he pay them?"

  "I don't know, Gerald." Liz said, frustration creeping into her tone. "I don't even know who he is."

  "A friend of mine and Nick's. We grew up together. He's my lawyer. Maybe Nick will know."

  "What will Nick know?" Marilyn asked, climbing from the companionway into the cockpit.

  Liz stepped up beside her and put an arm around her shoulders, speaking in a low tone. "He's really confused, probably some kind of shock. Can you maybe take him below and keep him quiet — try to settle him down?"

  "Sure," Marilyn said, a worried frown on her face. "Are we headed back in?"

  "Yes. We figured the villa, for lack of anywhere better."

  "Can we go to English Harbour? My suite?
There's help on call there if we need it."

  "No problem. That makes sense."

  ****

  As the speeding RIB bounced across the chop, Mickey was thinking about how he would arrange the bodies. He figured Thompson's corpse could be mistaken for his, since none of Rodriguez's local associates had seen him.

  He didn't intend to make Thompson a part of the tableau. He would position Jackson's remains in about the position he had been in when Rodriguez shot him, so that the blood spatters on the boat would make sense, at least to a casual glance. That meant that Rodriguez would have to be right up in Jackson's face, with the pistol under Jackson's chin to match the entry wound.

  He would position Jackson's arms around Rodriguez in a bear hug, his right hand on Liz's knife, the spike stuck into the wound over Rodriguez's kidney. When he thought of the knife, he realized that he had left both weapons aboard Vengeance.

  He turned the helm a bit to the starboard, beginning a wide arc that would take him back to Vengeance. He could see the sails on the horizon, although the hull was lost in the haze of salt spray. The wind had picked up enough to blow the tops off some of the breaking waves, turning the horizon into a gray smudge between the indigo blue of the water and the crisp, clear sky. He glanced at his watch.

  It had only taken a few minutes at full throttle to come this far; he should have plenty of time. He hoped the women hadn't tossed the pistol over the side. Then he remembered the locker full of guns behind the controls. He still needed that knife of Liz's, though. He couldn't think of anything else that would match the wound in Rodriguez's back.

  ****

  The leader of the commando team swept the horizon with a pair of high-powered, image-stabilized binoculars. There weren't a lot of boats in the area — a few fishing boats and a couple of yachts under sail headed west.

  He knew that their quarry planned to attack a sailing yacht, but none of the sailing vessels he'd spotted were headed in the right direction. His mission briefing had specified that the yacht was known to sail between Antigua and Barbuda, so he was searching for boats on a northerly course.

  As the sun came out from behind a cloud, he caught a flash of white on the horizon ahead. He trained his glasses on it, zooming slightly to pick out the shape of the sails. He scanned the water between his position and the sailing vessel.