Bluewater Vengeance: Mystery and Adventure in the Caribbean (Bluewater Thrillers Book 2)

by Charles Dougherty

  "Where we get work clothes, Zeke?"

  "Come," Zeke said, boarding a water taxi bound for the restaurant adjoining the boatyard on the other side of the harbor. Disembarking, Zeke led the way through the busy restaurant and out into the parking lot. He walked into the boatyard, which shared the parking lot with the restaurant, and found a trash bin. Glancing around to be sure he was unobserved, he poked around in the bin for a few seconds and came up with a disposable coverall, suitably splotched with bright blue paint and golden splashes of varnish. Zeke bundled his treasure under his arm, and they went back into the restaurant.

  "May as well eat, James," Zeke said. "Office at the marina close fo' lunch, prob'ly."

  ****

  Zeke and James sat in the open-air bar overlooking the harbor. Zeke had resumed his tourist persona and was talking with Ozzie on his cell phone. James was up at the bar, buying a couple of cold beers and flirting with the barmaid.

  "I tol' the office lady that Ms. Berger ax me to look at doin' some varnish on the boat, Ozzie. She say I look if I wish, but Ms. Berger, she gone. She sailin' on 'nother boat; big boat, name Best of Times. They don' know when she come back, but the rumor say she gone south to Guadeloupe. They s'posed to call Mr. Davis 'bout Kayak Spirit, if they need somethin'."

  "Okay, Zeke. You and James find a place to stay. I'll speak with some of my friends in customs and see what I can find out about Best of Times." Ozzie disconnected as James returned with the beers.

  "Lady at the bar, she got a sister, Zeke. She want us to go dancin' tonight."

  "Mebbe. Look like we be here tonight. Ozzie got to see can he find Best of Times."

  ****

  Vengeance was sailing along to the west of the Saintes. Liz was at the helm, and Dani was relaxing in the sun, stretched out along the cockpit seat.

  "It's funny how lax the French Islands are about clearance procedures," Liz remarked.

  "Well, it is, but that doesn't mean they aren't paying attention. It's always been a gamble to try to clear in at Deshaies. It's better since they decided to let the Internet café handle clearance for pleasure boats. You used to have to hike about a half a mile up the hill south of town to the customs office, and then they were closed most of the time. That doesn't mean they aren't watching, though. It's fine to fly the Q flag when you can't find an officer, but I'm sure they would notice if someone did something strange. I always do my best to follow the rules, and I've never had a problem, anywhere. First time I've found the Internet café closed, though."

  "Will they give us any trouble in Dominica?"

  "You mean because we don't have paperwork from Guadeloupe?"

  Liz nodded. "Our clearance from Antigua lists Deshaies as our destination, not Portsmouth." Liz was working to grasp the intricacies of dealing with officials in the various countries Vengeance would visit. She wanted to be able to handle their paperwork, sharing the responsibility with Dani.

  "Right. The folks in Dominica are used to that happening. They get a lot of bareboat charters from the French islands, so they're accustomed to all kinds of gaps in the paperwork. They won't give us any trouble about that, unless we've done something else that arouses suspicion."

  "Will we stop in the Saintes, Dani?"

  "If we feel like it, but probably on our way back north. It's a tough beat from the west coast of Guadeloupe to the Saintes. Easier to go down to Dominica and come back up, even though it's a lot farther. It's less than 10 miles from Pointe Vieux Fort to Les Saintes, but it's right into the wind and there's usually a vicious current opposing you, too. Seems much farther, and it's not a nice trip. We should plan to stop in the Saintes northbound, every time, if our guests want to go there."

  "How long will we stay in Portsmouth?"

  "Just long enough for Sharktooth to show you some of the sights, so you can help our guests with their sightseeing plans. Probably a couple of days, at most. I'm eager to get to Martinique so you can meet Phillip and Sandrine. I can't wait for him to see Vengeance."

  "I'm excited to meet them, Dani. Sharktooth, too. I've got visions of this man with a predator's jaw. Why is he called Sharktooth, anyway?"

  Dani explained about the ornament on the foredeck of his water taxi.

  "What's his real name?"

  "No idea. I guess I never even thought about it. He's always been Sharktooth to me, ever since I was a child." Dani's voice trailed off.

  Liz glanced over and saw that Dani had fallen asleep, practically in the middle of the sentence. She smiled, relieved to see that her energy was not without limits. She had been struggling to keep pace with her new partner; Dani never seemed to pause for a breath. She was always on to the next challenge.

  ****

  Zeke and James were still in the open-air bar, several hours' worth of empty beer bottles in a haphazard array on their table. Zeke was woozy enough to have trouble manipulating his cell phone when it rang, interrupting James's conversation with the barmaid.

  "Hello, Ozzie." He enunciated with difficulty, his tongue marginally under his control.

  "Are you drunk, Ezekiel?"

  "Yeah, uh, no. Mebbe jus' a likkle bit. 'M okay, Ozzie. Where she at?"

  Ozzie was annoyed, but he put his irritation aside. There was nothing he could do about Zeke's inebriated state, and it didn't matter, anyway. He was thankful for that. "There's no record of Best of Times leaving Antigua. They have her cleared in months ago; I'm waiting for a callback from my contact to see if she cleared into Guadeloupe. Maybe they left without clearing out of Antigua. You might as well spend the night there. Get sober, and be ready to catch the first flight to Guadeloupe in the morning. I'll call as soon as I have something firm, and you had best be straight. No more beer. You understand me?"

  Even through the fog of alcohol, Zeke heard the menace in Ozzie's tone. "Yes, Baas," he mumbled as he stabbed at the disconnect button, which kept evading his finger.

  "What he say, Zeke?"

  "Say we mus' get sober, mebbe fly to Guadeloupe tomorrow. He don' know where she at."

  "We dance our way sober," James said, leering at the barmaid, who was sitting on his lap. "Suzie get off work in 10 minutes. Sister comin' soon. Party tonight, sober tomorrow."

  Zeke put his head down on the table for a little rest.

  ****

  Ozzie thought it was time to feed Big Jim a bit of information, just to keep him in the game. After all, Big Jim could hardly take the fall for the kidnapping if he were completely out of the loop. He picked up his phone and scrolled down to Big Jim's name in the directory.

  "Hello, Ozzie." Big Jim motioned his cousin Gino over and held the phone so that they could both hear Ozzie.

  "Our friend has left Antigua, and she's on a different yacht," Ozzie said, conscious that he was on an unsecured telephone connection. "She's supposed to be in Guadeloupe, but I haven't been able to reach her yet. I'll let you know when I track her down. She didn't leave a number, but I'm hoping one of our mutual friends will know where she's staying."

  "Do we know the name of the yacht?"

  "Best of Times."

  "When did she leave?"

  "Day before yesterday."

  "Well, it'll be difficult to find her in Guadeloupe, Ozzie. Maybe she'll come farther south."

  "Yes, perhaps she will. I'll let you know what our friends discover. It will probably be late in the day tomorrow, though."

  "Okay, Ozzie. Thanks for calling."

  He looked at Gino as he set the phone on the table between them. "What a fool," he muttered, shaking his head.

  "So, Iago, if you could pick the place, where would you snatch her?"

  "Somewhere in the Grenadines. Too many people in St. Vincent and Grenada, but just about any of the other islands are good. Once we got her on Maximo, we're good."

  "How much you think she's worth, Iago?"

  "Her father's Jean-Paul Berger. You heard of him?"

  Gino shook his head.

  "I called some of the folks in Venezuela we
knew before El Grupo. They heard of him, and this Phillip Davis, too. They used to smuggle arms to different people in South America."

  "Gunrunners?" Gino's eyebrows arched. "Don't sound like there's much money there." Gino's sense of wealth was drawn from years in the absurdly profitable drug trade.

  "Yeah, that's what I said, too, but I found out different. We ain't talking a few cases of machine guns fallin' off a freighter somewhere in the dark. These guys could equip an army. Fighter planes, tanks, missiles, you name it. Davis started out small I guess, maybe got his hands dirty. Him, I don't know about, but Berger, I figure $10 million is small change. We each walk away with $5 mil for a few days of fun, and they learn not to mess with Rodriguez."

  "Why only $10 million, if he got that kind of money? I got a guy in the Caymans can move it faster than anybody can follow. Let's make it big, if we gonna do it. Lemme talk to him, see what he thinks we can deal with."

  "Okay, Gino. Talk to him, but don't get greedy. I want a quick, simple score here. We get bigger than pocket change with this Berger, it may get complicated. If we hit hard and fast, he can come up with $10 mil. You start getting' bigger, he might have to do stuff to raise the money. That'll take time. Time means he can think instead of just reacting. You see what I'm tryin' to say?"

  Gino nodded. "Okay, let's just think about it while Johnston's tryin' to find the girl, anyway."

  Chapter 16

  Dani was enjoying her second cup of coffee in the cockpit, watching as the sun crept over the ridgeline to the east. Although it was an hour past sunup, Prince Rupert Bay and the town of Portsmouth were still in shadow from the mountainous backbone of Dominica. The misty rain that often greeted early risers in Portsmouth had not yet begun to disperse. Liz, waiting for the eggs to finish cooking, stood on the companionway ladder, peering around at the scenery.

  "Looks like rain for my first day here. Bummer."

  "It always looks this way here in the morning, Liz. It will be beautiful by the time we've eaten."

  "So what's the plan? You're going to call Sharktooth after breakfast? Or will you clear in first?"

  "Oh, somebody will be here before we finish breakfast. Just watch. A boat like this represents opportunity to all the guys in the tourism business. We won't have to call anybody, most likely."

  Liz stepped back below, to emerge in a few minutes with two steaming plates of sausage and potatoes with fried eggs. She put them on the cockpit table and went back below for the carafe of coffee. As Dani had predicted, they were no sooner finishing their meal than the first boat came alongside.

  "Good morning, Vengeance! Welcome to Dominica."

  "Good morning, Robert," Dani replied, moving to sit on the gunwale of Vengeance, where she could extend her legs to fend off the water taxi bobbing alongside.

  The grinning man glanced up, surprised to be addressed by name from a boat that he didn't recognize. "Dani! Good to see you. You got a new job, new boat. Skipper and he guests, they wan' go snorkel, mebbe?"

  "My boat, Robert. Got tired of being crew."

  "Whoa! She beautiful, Dani. You do the charter wit' she, now?"

  "That's my plan. Liz, meet Robert. He runs snorkel tours up the coast north of here. Liz is my partner in the business, Robert. We're just shaking Vengeance down and getting Liz familiar with the islands, this trip. She may want to do one of your trips, if you've room. Sharktooth around?"

  "Sure, he busy eatin', what he always do." Robert picked up a handheld VHF radio and spoke in a rapid patois.

  "Soon come, Dani. I don't tell him you the skipper on this fine big yacht. You surprise he. He t'ink the guests wan' tour of the Indian River."

  "Thanks, Robert. Good to see you again. We'll let you know about a snorkel trip, maybe tomorrow."

  "Okay, ladies. Welcome. Nice to meet you, Liz. We make sure you like Dominica bes' of all the islan'. Mus' go pick up my customers now. See you." Robert turned and pulled the starter cord on his outboard.

  As Robert left, Sharktooth's distinctive water taxi came alongside.

  "Good morning, Vengeance! My name Sharktooth, an' I the man to see 'bout the Indian River trip." As he brought the heavy wooden skiff alongside, he stood up and grasped the toe rail of the big boat, spotting Dani as he stopped.

  "Dani! Hey, girl. Good to see you again so soon. That rascal Robert, he no' tell me you on this fine yacht. You crewin' again?"

  "No, Sharktooth. This is mine. Mine and Liz's." She introduced Liz, and took the painter from the foredeck of Sharktooth's boat, making it fast to a mid-ship cleat. "You got time to visit, or you busy?"

  "I busy visitin' you, my frien'," he said, scrambling aboard Vengeance and shaking hands with Liz.

  "Phillip tell me you go in the charter business, but I don' 'spect nothin' like this, Dani. She a beauty, girl, a beauty. You an' Liz, you gon' do good, I t'ink."

  They sat in the cockpit, drinking chilled orange juice, and caught up on the gossip. Sharktooth finished the leftovers from their breakfast as they talked.

  As Liz watched him savoring the sausages, she said, "I thought Rastafarians were vegetarians."

  Sharktooth chuckled. "Jah make man like me to be big, strong. Warrior for Jah must keep strength up. One love."

  When Liz excused herself to clean up after breakfast, Dani gathered up her paperwork.

  "Sharktooth's going to take me over to customs and immigration, Liz. We'll be back by the time you're done, and then we'll do the trip up the Indian River, okay?"

  "Dani, the trip up the river bes' in the early morning. See mo' bird then. I take you to check in, then we come get Liz and go do islan' tour today, since we get a late start. Do the Indian River firs' t'ing in the morning, how 'bout?"

  Liz and Dani both thought that made sense. Now that they were sailing a fast boat, they realized that they could do the river tour tomorrow and be back aboard in time to depart around lunchtime, which would put them in St. Pierre, Martinique, late tomorrow.

  ****

  "You're sure of that name?" The customs officer asked Ozzie, resting the phone on his shoulder as he studied his computer screen, glancing around to be sure his boss was occupied with business at the counter.

  "Best of Times," Ozzie repeated.

  "No. Nothing in the outbound clearances in the past few days matches, jus' like I say yesterday. Sorry, mon. They sneak out, mebbe; go to Guadeloupe. The French, they don' ax fo' the las' clearance, many time."

  "I called my friend in the Douane. They have no record of her either."

  "You could call the owner, mebbe, ax if they know where that boat."

  "How do I find the owner? All the lady at the marina saw was that it was U.S. flagged."

  "That's easy, mon, you look up online. U.S. Coast Guard documentation database."

  "Can you do that for me? I'll remember it, next time I settle up with you."

  "No, mon, sorry. Boss is lookin' at me. Counter ver' busy. I mus' go now. Sorry."

  Ozzie hung up the phone, mildly annoyed. He paid the man more than the government of Antigua did, but he still didn't have his undivided attention. He moved the mouse on his desk, waiting until his computer monitor flickered to life. A quick search got him to the U. S. Coast Guard's database, and in a moment, he had the address of the owner of Best of Times. Another search, and he was listening to the telephone ring.

  "Simonson residence," a somber male voice announced.

  "Yes, good morning. This is Samuel Jones, with Customs in Antigua. I need to speak with Mrs. Simonson about her yacht, Best of Times, please."

  "Please wait a moment, sir. I'll see if Mrs. Simonson can take your call."

  Ozzie heard the sound of the phone being placed on a hard surface, and listened to voices in the background. Soon, he heard the rattle as the handset was fumbled on the hard surface again.

  "Mrs. Simonson suggests that you call her attorney. She doesn’t wish to discuss this matter with you. I have his card here." The man read the name and telephone number, and Ozzie scrib
bled it on his notepad.

  "Please thank Mrs. Simonson," he said, through clenched teeth, and slammed the phone into its cradle. He took a deep breath, counted to ten slowly, and dialed the lawyer's office. He was taken aback when the man answered his own phone. Ozzie repeated his story, almost starting to believe that he was a frustrated customs officer.

  "I'm sorry, Mr. Jones, but I'm not at liberty to discuss Mrs. Simonson's affairs with you."

  "Look, I'm trying to help your client, counselor. There's some confusion about the departure clearance of the yacht, Best of Times. We are about to file a lien for unpaid harbor fees, and then no one will be able to move that vessel," Ozzie said, making it up as he went.

  "Talk to the yacht broker. He's right there in English Harbour. Maybe he can help you. Good day, sir." This time, Ozzie listened as the phone on the other end smacked solidly into its cradle. He thought for a minute, and then dialed Zeke's cell phone number.

  ****

  Zeke felt the sound more than he heard it; his head was throbbing in time with the rhythmic, tinkling tune. He forced one eye open, and gazed at an enticing mound of chocolate-brown flesh, partly covered by a sheet. Suzie, he thought. No, Suzie was with James. The mound shifted, jiggling.

  "Answer yo' dam' phone, Zeke," a syrupy voice murmured in his ear.

  He sat up, fumbling for the phone as the room spun around his head. By the time he found it in the pile of clothes on the floor beside the bed, he was alert enough to see that Ozzie's name showed on the caller i.d. screen.

  "Yes, Ozzie," he said, holding the phone to his ear. It was late morning, he noticed, as he looked out the window.

  "Are you still in Antigua?"

  "Yes, Ozzie, flights to Guadeloupe full." He was proud of himself for remembering that he and James were supposed to fly out this morning. Damn James and his rum and his women.

  "That's okay. Get back to English Harbour. There's a yacht broker there. Go and see what he knows about Best of Times. Tell him you're my captain and I might be interested in buying her."

  "Yes, Ozzie." Zeke disconnected and started picking his clothes out of the pile. The woman sat up, wrapping the sheet around herself.