Bluewater Betrayal: The Fifth Novel in the Caribbean Mystery and Adventure Series (Bluewater Thrillers Book 5)

by Charles Dougherty

  They watched in silence as the sky lightened, first to a mauve color that progressed rapidly through red to pink. All too quickly, the sun's rim popped above the horizon, a sliver of blinding light that traced a path of dazzling crimson across the ocean's surface toward them. As the sun climbed above the horizon, the illusion that the ball of golden fire rested on a red column faded.

  "Splendid," Liz said. "You ready to turn the helm over to me?"

  "Sure." Dani slid sideways until she was sitting on the port cockpit seat.

  Liz slipped behind the helm. "We must be almost past Dominica," she said.

  "Yes. The GPS puts us at about 15 degrees 30 minutes north -- just about due east of Portsmouth. We should be off the north end of Guadeloupe late this afternoon. Then we can come up on the wind a bit and make a little east to get past Montserrat."

  "You planning to head up toward Antigua and then fall off?" Liz asked.

  "Right. I'd like to be out to the northeast of St. Kitts and Nevis, just in case the wind backs. I don't want to gamble that it's going to keep this much to the south of east. If we go south of them and it backs, we'll get becalmed."

  "Oh well," Liz said. "We're kind of hiding anyway. We could spend a few days drifting out there; nobody would find us."

  "Yeah, that's true, but I'd like to get the diesel running. Our choice of harbors is limited if we've got to sail in."

  "I keep forgetting that when we're out here like this."

  "Easy to do when the sailing's so good," Dani agreed. "I'm going to catch a nap. Yell if you need me."

  ****

  They sat near the stage, only half-watching the colored strobe lights play over the sleek, oiled flesh of the nude girl. She writhed around the gleaming brass pole, her mass of blond hair flying loose. The larger of the two men sipped at a glass of mineral water with a twist of lime. The throbbing music and the girl's synchronized undulations left little to the imagination. The rest of her audience was transfixed, but the two men almost seemed bored.

  "Kandi's got these losers right in the palm of her hand," the big man said.

  "Well, if you say so," the slim one with the carefully tended mustache said. He had just flown in from Martinique and stopped in Rudy's bar on the way out of the Miami airport.

  "Just look at 'em. You don't think so?" the big man asked.

  "Oh, she's got 'em, all right. No argument about that. But it's not in the palm of her hand."

  The big man laughed. "You know her at all?"

  "Not much. Only from talkin' to her when I took her somewhere to meet Ric. Why?"

  "Seems like a shame, is all."

  "I don't know. Seemed like a stuck-up bitch, to me."

  "She's got a kid," the big man said.

  "So?"

  "Like I said, just seems like a shame."

  "You gettin' soft, Rudy?"

  "Nah. I'll do what's got to be done. Don't stop me from thinkin' it's sad, though. Her life's pretty twisted up."

  "I tell you what I think's twisted, man."

  "What?'

  "Ric makin' her dance like this."

  "You mean 'cause she used to be his main squeeze?"

  "Nah, not that. I get that; he likes that all these losers're havin' wet dreams over what he was gettin' regular. What's sick is that he's lettin' her think she's outta the woods after that mess in the islands. You know he's gonna tell me to punch her ticket one day soon. That's damn cold, ain't it?"

  "He's just tryin' to recover as much of his investment as he can," the big man said.

  "Investment?"

  "Yeah; he's got thousands tied up in her."

  "Whad'ya mean?"

  "She was a skinny, flat-chested thing when he first got her."

  "Why would he do that?"

  "Who knows? Guess he saw somethin' there he thought was worth fixin' up. The senator liked it, anyhow."

  They watched in silence for a minute. When her set ended, the men ringing the small stage tossed wadded bills onto the dance floor, watching as the girl sauntered around and bent over, posing suggestively as she slowly retrieved each one, smoothing it on the stage floor before she straightened up and strutted to the next bank note to a chorus of catcalls and wolf whistles.

  "Guess the senator must have gotten tired of it," the one with the mustache said.

  "Somethin' happened on that trip to the islands," the big man called Rudy said. "Soon as she and the senator got back here to Miami, Ric told me to put her back to dancin' so's I could keep an eye on her. He don't want her talkin' to nobody 'bout whatever went down."

  "See that she doesn't, Rudy." The man with the mustache left as the one called Rudy followed him nervously with his eyes.

  "Crazy Irish bastard," Rudy muttered under his breath, relieved that he was gone.

  Chapter 16

  There was a swirl as the big fish made a pass at the teaser that skimmed along the surface a few feet ahead of the bait. The man in the fighting chair tensed as the rod bent almost double, the click on the reel screaming as the fish took line. He snatched the rod and jerked it back as the line went slack, reeling as fast as he could. The other man shook his head. "He's gone, Pete."

  Pete Davidson put the rod back in its holder and swiveled the chair to talk to his host. The boat slowed to idle speed while the mate retrieved the line to refresh the bait. "So what's on your mind, Sol?"

  "You're a cynical bastard; you know that?" Sol asked.

  "What?"

  "I invite you out for a nice day fishing in the Gulf Stream, and you think I want something."

  "Everybody wants something. None of the bills I'm working on have anything to do with any of your businesses. Not that I know of, anyway."

  "So let's just keep it that way. Maybe I just think you're doing a good job in the Senate. Maybe I get off on hanging out with powerful, famous people. Why are you so worried about it?"

  The mate tossed the line back in the water and gave the captain a wave. The engines in the big sportfishing boat rumbled and the boat eased forward again as the mate payed out line. They were making between six and seven knots when the mate nodded in satisfaction and returned the rod to its holder. "Get you gentlemen a fresh beer or anything?"

  Sol looked at Pete, who shook his head. "Nothing, thanks, Jorge."

  The mate turned and scrambled back up the ladder to the flying bridge where he resumed his interrupted conversation with the captain.

  "I heard that trip to the islands didn't work out," Sol said to Pete. "Sorry about that."

  "Yeah, well. Guess it's just as well you couldn't go yourself. I appreciate your passing on the opportunity to me, though."

  "Still, I'm sorry you and Kandi had to cut it short," Sol said.

  "Shit happens. Thanks for getting me out of there when that broad went crazy. Your friends still going to try to make a go of the charter thing? I thought their idea was pretty solid."

  "I'm not sure. I haven't heard from them since you got back. I thought they were better businessmen; sounds like they didn't do such a hot job of picking their crew."

  "Yeah. That Delorme guy had a serious drug problem. Not sure what was going on with that crazy bitch he had with him. She went nuts when she came back and found him and Kandi gettin' it on."

  "Guess you heard that Delorme hung himself?"

  "No! Damn glad I got out of there when I did. I thought that guy was calming him down."

  "What guy is that?" Sol asked.

  "He came with the two fellows that picked us up from Isis after I called you. Said he'd stay and get everything sorted out."

  "Ah. So what's Kandi think of it all?"

  "I haven't seen her since we got back. She's kind of disappeared. That's okay; I didn't want her finding out who I really was, anyway. I can't afford that kind of risk. Fun while it lasted, though."

  "I understand," Sol said. "That's smart."

  "You think I'm okay on this, Sol?"

  "What happens in the islands stays in the islands. I wouldn't worry abou
t it, especially if she doesn't know who you are. How'd you work that, anyway?"

  "False identity. Comes in handy. Any word on that cook? Liz, whatever?"

  "My friends say it'll be handled soon."

  "Handled? How?"

  "You and I shouldn't worry about things like that, Pete. That's why I keep Delgado and O'Leary around."

  The click on the reel started screaming again and the men turned their attention to fishing.

  ****

  Ric Delgado held O'Leary's gaze, studying the man's flat-looking green eyes as O'Leary talked. They were in the den of Ric's house, which doubled as his office. O'Leary was the only one of his minions who made Ric uncomfortable; he knew the man was a psychopath, but he was useful for that very reason. "Soft how, Dan?" he asked, when O'Leary stopped talking.

  "He's feelin' sorry for her. Told me she had a kid; said she'd had a shitty life."

  "He's human. That's all. He's been with me a long time. He was running girls before you knew the difference. He pays attention to 'em, takes care of 'em; that's why he's good at it."

  "It don't feel good, Ric. I think…"

  "And that's a problem. You used feel and think in the same breath. Let me worry about him and the girls. I need you to keep the product moving and keep those people down in the islands in line."

  "You should let me put her down, Ric."

  "There'd be too many questions right now."

  "She's just a stripper turns tricks for you. Who'd give a shit?"

  "There's more to it than that right now. The timing's wrong. Believe me, if we took her out right now, there'd be hell to pay, and she's under control. She's got a kid to think of; she'll follow instructions. You want to waste a broad, go get that one that kicked the senator's ass. We got no control over her, and your boys in Martinique already blew it once."

  "That's taken care of. Henri ain't with us anymore. I woulda paid money to see her jack that slimy bastard up, though. Big man like that gettin' his ass kicked by some little bitch."

  O'Leary cackled at the thought. Ric listened to the dry, inhuman sound, thinking again that O'Leary wasn't quite right. As if to confirm his suspicions, O'Leary cut off his laugh in midstream and took a mirror out of his pocket. He held it in front of his face, studying his image for a moment before he licked the index finger of his right hand and smoothed his mustache and eyebrows. He put the mirror away and shifted his stare back to Ric.

  Ric forced himself to look into O'Leary's dead eyes. "What went wrong down there? I thought you told me Henri would take care of it."

  "He planted a bomb on the boat. Waited until he saw they were aboard and triggered it with a phone call, like he always does. It didn't blow."

  "That's a first. You ask him why?"

  "He ain't around; couldn't ask him."

  "Where is he?"

  "Guy Leclerc said he shot himself rather than talk to me."

  "Who's on it now?"

  "Guy's handling it."

  "Personally?"

  "You got a problem with that, Ric?"

  "I got a problem with failure; don't disappoint me again. It's you I'm holding responsible; not your troops."

  "Yeah, yeah. I got it, okay?"

  "The longer that woman is on the loose, the more chance of her talking. We're lucky so far; if she recognizes the senator, we'll all be in deep shit. Get your ass back to Martinique until it's done."

  "Yeah, okay."

  "And while you're down there, find out from Jimmy who he left on Isis when he picked up the senator and Kandi."

  "Okay, but…"

  "Because the senator saw him. He could probably identify him, if it came to that."

  "But Delorme's a suicide as far as the cops…"

  "It's a risk. We don't control the senator and we don't control that guy Jimmy used to kill Delorme. He could take Jimmy down, and who knows where it would stop then. Take care of him, just in case. No more loose ends."

  "Okay, okay. I'm outta here."

  ****

  Kandi sat in the cluttered dressing room, feeling the vibrations of the disco music that occasionally rattled the bottles on the vanity table. A cheap satin robe over her bare shoulders, she scrubbed the makeup from her face. It was early; only one other dancer was working, so she had the dressing room to herself.

  Alerted by the sudden increase in the volume of the already loud music, she shifted her eyes from her reflection in the cracked mirror to see the door opening behind her. Some creep wanting to paw her, or worse, she thought, worried. Because of the sparse afternoon crowd, there was no bouncer. The DJ was gay, and Rudy never bothered the girls. It had to be a drunk. She reached into the open canvas messenger bag on the floor beside her, her hand closing on the pepper spray. As Rudy stepped into view, she breathed a sigh of relief. She dropped the canister back into the bag and resumed mopping at her face with a cotton ball.

  "What's the matter?" she asked. "My shift's up and I can't stay; I got to pick up Missy from daycare. It's Sally's…"

  "That's not why I'm here. Sally's already here; she's drinkin' a Coke out in the bar."

  "What, then?"

  "You got anywhere you can go? I mean away from here?"

  "My place? Why? Are you wanting to…"

  "You know me better than that, Kid. You're in trouble. You need to disappear for a while."

  "I don't…"

  "Look, there may not be much time. You done a good job here; no trouble. No boyfriends comin' 'round, no Johns, no ex-husbands. But you saw somethin' down in the islands."

  "I…"

  "Shut up and listen. You know O'Leary?"

  "Yeah. The scary one with the mustache?"

  "That's the one. He's figurin' he's gonna get told to punch your ticket any day now."

  "But, I…Ric said…"

  "I know. You got no money. Take this." He passed her an envelope. "There's a couple grand; get as far as you can and find somethin' to do besides dancin'. Take care of Missy."

  She dropped the envelope in her bag, trembling. "You been good to me, Rudy. Good to all of us. Why?"

  He shook his head. "I had a daughter once; I couldn't help her when she needed it. Now get dressed and get your ass on the road."

  She stood up and hugged him. "Thanks. I'll call when I…"

  "Don't even think about callin'. Too dangerous. Now go get Missy and get goin'. Don't go back to your place, either, or I've wasted two grand." He kissed her on top of the head and turned away, walking through the door and slamming it.

  Chapter 17

  Louis Godfrey was endowed with almost infinite patience; it was a requirement of his profession. He didn't dwell on the number of fruitless inquiries he'd made in his career. He just kept moving, knowing that every negative response took him that much closer to the one positive one -- the one that would break his case open. He had spent two days already riding around in a borrowed rigid inflatable boat, one of the ubiquitous RIBs that crisscrossed the lagoon at Cul-de-Sac Marin. He carried a print of the photograph that showed the man in the pirogue alongside Vengeance. The man had almost certainly planted the bomb, and it seemed likely that he must be from close by. He hadn't yet shown the photograph to anyone, nor had he actually asked any questions. He was looking for the boat, reasoning that it would probably be easier to find than its owner. Besides, flashing a photograph of the man was likely to warn his quarry and send him into hiding, but no one paid any attention to one more beat up RIB cruising through the lagoon, its sole occupant intent on his fishing rod as he trolled for whatever might strike his lure.

  As he scoped out the boats, he considered his situation. He still had no idea how he had ended up in the custody of Phillip Davis after his arrest. In exchange for Davis's assistance with his search for Caroline Delorme, he had agreed to share what he discovered. It seemed likely that her disappearance, Delorme's death, and the attempt to bomb Vengeance were related. Davis clearly had some connections with the authorities, but Godfrey couldn't fathom what they might be. P
hillip had declined to discuss the matter, and Godfrey's contacts in Interpol and Scotland Yard hadn't heard of the man. Godfrey had thought of and rejected the idea of asking La Direction Départementale de la Sécurité Publique, reasoning that it would be pointless at best. At worst, it could get him shipped out of Martinique again.

  True to his old habits, he was running his own game to the extent that he could. So far, he had no reason to distrust Davis, but he instinctively held back a key piece of information, reasoning that it could be useful later if he needed a quid pro quo in his dealings with Davis. He could always explain his lack of openness by saying that he hadn't been sure of his information, which was technically true. It had been dark when he had seen the man in the pirogue alongside Isis before her departure for Bequia -- too dark for a photograph. But Godfrey's trained eye had recorded the shape of the boat and the physique of its occupant. He couldn't be absolutely sure, but given the coincidence factor, he would bet that it was the same man that he had photographed alongside Vengeance. He had used his photo processing software to desaturate the colors and darken the exposure of that picture. The patterns of light and dark paint on the hull of the boat in the shadowy image that resulted matched his recollection of the boat that had called on Isis.

  He had begun his search at the marina and traversed the lagoon in a series of ever-expanding arcs as he fished. He hadn't caught anything, but he had removed the hooks from the lure, so that wasn't surprising. He had at first considered just scouting the shoreline, but he had soon realized there were boats of all descriptions tied to mooring buoys scattered all through the lagoon. He was nine hours into today's search, having started at dawn. It was two o'clock, he saw as he glanced at his watch, and the boats were thinning out as he got farther from the marina. There were only a few widely spaced yachts remaining in the deeper water.

  He took out a map that he had picked up in a bookstore. It was a topographical map rather than a nautical chart; he had thought that detail of what was ashore might be useful. He saw that he was near La Duprey, a small village on the lagoon's western shore. He folded the map and returned it to his backpack, extracting a small pair of binoculars. He scanned the shoreline, spotting the village without difficulty. He put the binoculars away and adjusted his course so that the current arc would take him in close to La Duprey.