His mind was quick. Looking at the group in front of him and then at me, he said, “Grenades is what I’ve been hearing from some local fishermen.”
“That isn’t public knowledge,” Bender said.
“Yeah,” I replied, “it pretty much is down here. Secrets don’t last long in a small town.”
“Why’s local law enforcement involved?” Charity asked.
I introduced Phillips to everyone and explained that he would be escorting my daughter off island for supper.
“If she wants to eat out,” Bourke offered, “one of us could take her. No need to involve the locals.”
“It’s not official,” I explained. “It’s social.”
“Ahh,” Tony said, grinning. “You’re dating Kim?”
“With Mister McDermitt’s permission,” Phillips replied.
Tony stepped closer to the young man, his dark black scalp glistening with a light sweat. He put his arm around Phillips’s shoulder, squeezing it with the nubs of two fingers he lost on an op in Cuba last year. “She’s like a baby sister to all of us here. Anything happens to her besides a nice meal at a nice restaurant, I’ll be first in line after Jesse.”
“They’ll be alright, Tony,” I said. Then I turned to Phillips and looked hard into his eyes. “You will be armed at all times, right?”
“Armed?”
I quickly explained the situation with Zoe Pound to the deputy, telling him that no action was expected over the next few hours, but I’d consider it a favor if he remained armed while going out with my daughter. “She’ll be armed, too.”
“She will?” the young man replied as Kim came walking across the clearing. She was dressed in jeans and wore a clean and pressed denim shirt. I don’t even own an iron, so I had no idea how she’d accomplished that.
“Yes,” I replied, “She will.”
“Ready?” she asked Phillips, hugging my arm and kissing me on the cheek.
“What time will you bring my daughter home, Deputy?”
“Early, sir,” he replied, extending his hand. “It was a pleasure meeting you earlier.”
I walked them to the north pier and helped untie. “Early is twenty-one hundred,” I said. “Late is twenty-one oh one.”
“Yes, sir,” Phillips replied, starting the engines. I watched as the boat idled down the short canal from the house.
Returning to the group, we all sat down at the tables and I listened as the twin outboards opened up in Harbor Channel, heading east.
“I just got an email from Deuce,” Travis said. “Both teams, combined with officers from FDLE and Miami-Dade, moved on the home of Zoe Pound’s leader, Jean-Claude Lavolier, their clubhouse, and a known warehouse belonging to the gang. A short firefight ensued at the clubhouse, and three of the gang were killed before the rest surrendered. Grayson was wounded slightly, just grazed by a bullet.”
Scott Grayson had been a Staff Sergeant in the Marine Corps when he was tapped to join Deuce’s team. A tall black man, he had the physique of a body builder, yet defied the stereotype and had been a Combat Diving Instructor in the Corps. Powerful muscles aren’t a prerequisite for combat divers since underwater, the divers are weightless.
“Lavolier wasn’t at any of the locations, nor was Horvac. The house had a small staff, there were only a few people at the clubhouse, and aside from eighty kilos of cocaine found at the warehouse, it was empty.”
Hinkle let out a low whistle. “Eighty keys? And nobody to watch over it? Somethin’ seriously wrong there, mate.”
“A complete disregard for everything the gang’s been involved with for years,” Bender said. “They’re on their way here.”
A part of me still couldn’t comprehend the why of it. Any sane person would have been long gone since Elbow Cay and never looked back. It’s like Bourke and I had discussed—there’s just no rhyme or reason to the thought process of the criminal mind. I looked from Bourke to Bender and then to Stockwell. Apparently, Bourke and I weren’t the only ones to discuss the best way to understand the way bad guys think. Probably a big reason why Bender didn’t have to spend as much time training as the others. His primary job with the team was his expertise in understanding the criminal mind. Forensic Psychologist, I thought.
“Paul,” I said, “how will they come? Will they just come hell bent for leather? Or methodical?”
Bender grinned. “Yeah, at first. Finding this place after dark will be a bitch, though.” Turning to Stockwell, he asked, “Did Deuce get any intel on how long ago Lavolier left his compound? How many men?”
Stockwell nodded. “They missed him by minutes. Ten to twelve men with him and Horvac.”
Bender considered it and looked at his watch. The sun was nearing the end of its daily dance across the sky, already lighting the high, puffy clouds to the east with a soft orange hue.
“Two hours driving time, an hour to organize a plan and steal a boat. They’ll come fast after that, but like I said, finding this place after the sun goes down will be the hard part. An hour at least to get here by boat. Twenty-two hundred at the absolute earliest. More than likely after midnight.”
“We go dark at sunset,” I said. “One-hour watch starts once Kim gets back, two on at all times. Until then, no approach is invisible from the end of the piers. Everybody relax and catch something to restock the food supply. Charlie and Carl will have supper ready in an hour.”
“I already told Deuce to have six men return to Homestead and come directly to Marathon by air. They’ll land within the hour and wait there as backup.”
I nodded. “Probably won’t be needed. Eight of us and only a dozen of them.”
We discussed options, countermeasures, and possible intangibles for another twenty minutes. Charity went back to the chopper and returned with a small case, passing out communication earwigs to everyone.
“Where do you want me, mate?” Hinkle asked.
“Hope you brought a mosquito net, Donnie,” I replied. “Follow me.”
The group split up, some heading for the main house, where snorkeling equipment was stored in the dock area, while others went to the bunkhouse, where several kept their own rods and reels for when they stayed over on the island. We lived mostly off the sea and what vegetables and fruit we grew. Having more people on the island meant everyone had to pitch in to keep up the food stock.
As Hinkle and I walked toward the main house, Charity trotted up beside me. “Think Kim would mind some company?” she asked. “I’m staying for a while.”
Without waiting for an answer, she stopped at the chopper and grabbed a Go Bag, then turned and went back to the west bunkhouse. When Hinkle and I reached the end of the south pier, I pointed west. “See that island?”
He nodded. “Where’s the approaches?”
I pointed to the northeast. “Harbor channel runs almost straight for three miles. That’s the only deep-water approach and except for the light on Upper Harbor Key and a few crab traps, it’s unmarked. A boat big enough to carry ten to twelve men can only come that way.”
He looked toward the channel and back to the south end of the mangrove-covered island west of the pier. “Looks to be a couple hundred meters from here and a lot of range with no obstructions. Right enough, even at night. Any other approaches?”
I pointed due south toward the gap between Water Key and Howe Key. “That way’s shorter, but you have to know the water. There’s a lot of sandbars and cuts, navigable in a small boat, but dangerous at night.”
Pointing toward the interior, I said, “Water on the north and west sides of the island is only deep near the island itself. Beyond the pier up there it gets shallower. The only way to get back there is by running right along the mangroves where it’s a little deeper due to the current. Even a flats boat couldn’t make it at low tide and when the tide’s full, you’d have to pole across most of the north flats. Odds are, they’ll come from Harbor Channel.” Pointing back to the island, I added, “Last month, I built a small platform on the south e
nd of that little island. From there, both approaches are visible for over a mile.”
He grinned and nodded. “Be just like back home in the outback.” Pulling out a small spotting scope, he scoured the nearby island. “I don’t see no platform, mate.” Lowering the scope, he added, “Seeing as you built it, though, I wouldn’t expect to.”
“It’s level with the surrounding mangroves about ten meters in from the south tip. In a ghillie suit, you’ll be invisible. None of my boats have shallow enough draft to get over to it, so take a change of shoes.”
“I’ll get my gear. Doncha worry, mate. I’ll be more than comfortable.”
Hinkle trotted up the pier and I stood there a minute, looking out over the water. An artist couldn’t paint a more serene scene. Why were there so many people that wanted to muck up the water? I thought. Everywhere down here, people were wanting to take beautiful, undisturbed landscape and put up condos, build roads and bridges, and develop the whole area with tee shirt shops and bars to grab the tourist dollars. I guess I’m slightly guilty of that myself, but at least my little island wasn’t built into some ungainly, concrete monstrosity.
Leaving the pier, I went to the Trents’ house to see if they needed anything. Charlie said they had everything under control and we’d be having fresh catfish. When I went back out, Stockwell was sitting at the table with Charity. He appeared to be doing all the talking, as he slid what looked like a manila folder across the table. She nodded and folded it into an inside pocket of her flight vest. They stopped talking when I approached.
Travis looked up at me from the table. “When the deputy brings your daughter home, it would probably be wise for him to stay here.”
“Yeah, I was gonna suggest that,” I agreed. “I know he knows his way around the water down near the bigger islands, but it’s real easy to get lost up here in the backcountry, if you don’t know the way really well.”
“That’s what I was thinking. If he ran across a boat full of Haitians, a fast exit wouldn’t be a good idea. Do you know when they’ll be back?”
“No later than twenty-one hundred,” I replied.
After supper, I went out to the north pier with Pescador as the others settled in for the night, most opting to get some sleep while they could. Sitting at the end of the pier, I called Linda.
“I was just about to call you,” she said. “Are you and Kim sitting on the pier?”
“Me and Pescador are. Kim is out on a date.”
“A date? Good for her. Who’s the lucky guy?”
I went on to tell her about Deputy Phillips and of course I had to tell her how they came to meet, recounting the events of this morning.
“Yes, it was brought to my attention shortly after it happened. Three of my officers were with Deuce and his team about an hour ago. I’m sorry to hear about the girl. Who was she?”
“A model my client had hired. They’d apparently worked together before. They seemed pretty good in the water.”
“And the other one?”
“In the chamber at Mariner’s,” I replied. “She should be alright, though. My clients were treated at Fisherman’s and released. They went up to Mariner’s a few hours ago. Where are you right now?”
“Looking right over your head from my office.”
“You have a sunset view? The commissioner must like you. Not quite the same as being here, I bet.”
“I’ll be there before it sets a second time. Pick me up at Rusty’s?”
“You sure you want to be here for this family reunion? I have no idea how it’s gonna turn out.”
“Yes,” Linda replied. “I want to meet your grandson.”
We talked a few minutes longer as we watched the sun go down from our different vantage points. We didn’t discuss what might or might not happen tonight, though I could tell it weighed heavy on her mind as well as my own.
Chapter Seventeen
“I’d better get you home,” Marty said. He and Kim had just finished their giant-sized pizza at No Name Pub, but they hadn’t gone directly there. Kim had insisted they first go to Picnic Island in Newfound Harbor to watch the sunset. Being in a sheriff’s separtment patrol boat, a number of other boats quickly left the tiny island as soon as they idled up. In the middle of the harbor, it was known to be a party spot. Just a few trees and a long sandbar, it was frequented mostly by younger people.
Walking out of the restaurant, Kim pointed out the dollar she and her dad had signed and stapled to the ceiling near the door. As they walked back to Old Wooden Bridge Marina where they’d left the boat, Kim said, “Do we have to go back so early?”
“I promised your dad I’d have you home by nine. So, if I ever want to take you out again, that’s just what I’m gonna do.”
“Are you asking me out again?”
Marty looked at her in the moonlight. At seventeen she was a lot prettier than any girl he’d ever met. He’d guessed her to be older when they’d first met earlier in the day. He’d only learned her age when reviewing the witness statements after her dad and the fed dragged his prisoner off. Only two years older than her, he’d learned she’d graduated high school a year early, while they ate and talked. She also said she would be starting college in the fall, but would be around through at least the spring.
“Yeah,” Marty replied. “If you’d like to go out again, that is.”
“I would,” Kim replied as she took his arm. “But next time, can you wear, like, regular clothes?”
Marty looked down at his uniform and grinned. “It’s a deal.”
At the marina, Kim untied the lines while he started the two big outboards. Minutes later, they idled out of the marina and turned north, moving with the current under No Name Bridge. It was only eight o’clock, but he wanted to make sure he wasn’t late. Something about the way Kim’s dad carried himself told him that those rules Mister Thurman had shown him weren’t just a joke.
Clearing the bridge, Marty continued straight toward the red and green markers showing the entrance to Big Spanish Channel, east of Porpoise Key. The shorter route would be to the northwest, through the shallow cuts and sandbars between Annette and Howe Keys. During daylight, that’s the way he’d go, but the cuts aren’t marked and the last thing he wanted was to be late getting Kim home because he ran up on a sandbar. No, he thought, Mister McDermitt wouldn’t accept that excuse.
Half an hour later, as Marty made the turn into Harbor Channel, he noticed a dive charter boat, illuminated by the rising full moon, running outside the Content Keys in the deeper water of the Gulf. It was running with no lights. Probably a drug runner, he thought. Being off duty and having Kim with him, he never even considered going after the boat.
Arriving at the dock ten minutes before nine, he expected Kim’s dad to be standing there and was glad he wasn’t. That meant the man trusted him. He’d heard of Jesse McDermitt many times. Known to be a no-nonsense man who liked his solitude, he was rumored to have ties to a government agency, which Marty now knew to be true. He certainly didn’t want to cross the man.
Marty shut off the engines and as he and Kim were tying off, he heard a splashing sound coming from the west. Stepping up to the pier, he looked out over the water and saw someone sloshing quickly through the shallow water toward the west shore, where the caretaker’s house was.
“Who’s that?” he asked Kim as they walked up the pier.
“I don’t know. I wonder why none of the lights are on.”
As they crossed the deck in near total darkness, their eyes grew accustomed to it. Something doesn’t seem right, Marty thought.
True, he’d only been a deputy since last year, but he’d learned quickly from his partner. There were no lights on anywhere on the island that he could see. He figured there was no electricity from the mainland, like No Name Key, but surely they must have some sort of power supply. When they reached the steps at the opposite side, he could clearly hear the pumps running on the island’s vegetable-growing system. So, why no lights? he wondered
.
At the top of the steps leading from the deck down to ground level, he stopped, extending his left arm to block Kim from proceeding. “Something’s not right. Wait here a minute, okay?”
As Marty started down the steps, he drew his sidearm, holding it out to the side, aimed downward. Just as he reached the bottom of the steps, he saw a shadow move out of the trees on the west side, coming toward him. He dropped to one knee and aimed his Glock toward the approaching figure.
“Police!” he shouted. “Show me your hands!” The person stopped, raising his hands, and Marty saw he held a long object in his right hand.
“Easy, mate,” the man said. “I’m Agent Hinkle with DHS. Is that Deputy Phillips?”
Holstering his sidearm, Marty stood up and said, “Yeah, where is everyone?”
“What I came over here to find out, mate,” Hinkle answered as he walked over to the deputy. Marty noticed the object he was carrying was a rifle with a long scope attached. “Jesse had me on that island over yonder to watch the approaches and suddenly all the talk over our communication system just stopped and I couldn’t get anyone to answer. I heard a couple of groans, so I came right over.”
Kim suddenly screamed and both men ran up the steps in the moonlight to find Kim knelt beside her dad’s dog, who was lying on the deck to the right of the steps.
She lifted the dog’s huge head, holding the muzzle close to her face. “He’s alive,” Kim said. “And doesn’t look like he’s hurt anywhere, just knocked out. Where’s Dad?”
The deputy looked at Hinkle and noticed the night vision goggles covering his eyes as the former SEAL sniper turned and looked out over the island. “What can you see?”
“Nobody. Nothing moving,” Hinkle replied, looking around the interior of the island from the elevated deck. “Wait! Over there by the old fire pit, someone’s moving.”
Hinkle started down the steps and Marty turned to Kim. “Your dad said you were armed. Is that right?” Kim nodded. “Good. Stay up here and look after the dog. We’ll scout around and see what’s happened.”
Fallen King: A Jesse McDermitt Novel (Caribbean Adventure Series Book 6) Page 18