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

by Charles Dougherty

  They had resolved to approach the cabin early in the evening. That would allow them time to check the other outbuildings if they found the cabin empty, and then they could call on Ozzie Johnston in the big house.

  ****

  Liz had eaten a hearty lunch, and then tried to nap for most of the afternoon. She had stashed a small pry bar and a carpenter's hammer from the toolbox in the filthy bathroom of the little apartment. She figured out that the small window in the bath faced the rear of the building, and it was just big enough for her to squeeze through. As small as it was, she thought that she could remove the plywood that had been nailed over it without making too much noise. The plywood had been attached from the outside, but she figured it was not much larger than the window, so she should be able to remove it without dropping it. She had taken liquid soap from the dispenser at the sink and dribbled it on the wood around the nails that held the plywood, thinking that by letting it soak into the wood, lubricating the nails, she could minimize the noise they would make when she pushed the board out.

  She had found a pair of rubber boots that were a bit too large for her, but they would protect her feet, and she discovered a small knapsack into which she planned to put most of her dinner, thinking that she would eat it later. Once her captors delivered the evening meal, she didn't normally see them again until morning, so she planned to leave a couple of hours after they brought her meal. She thought that should be enough time for the two men and anybody else around to settle into their evening routines, reducing the chance that she would be seen.

  Chapter 31

  Ozzie was in his private stateroom, smoking a cigar and conversing with the captain of his motor yacht. Every so often, they were interrupted by a shriek of feminine laughter and the sound of occasional applause. The party was in full swing, but Ozzie didn't need to watch, and he had no desire to participate. He could tell that his guests were enjoying themselves.

  "It'll be a slow day for parliament tomorrow," he remarked to the captain.

  "No doubt," the man agreed.

  "So the boys like the looks of our guest, do they?"

  "It's all I've heard from them since the guys from Bequia brought her aboard. I'm glad we put her ashore tonight with them; they might not have been able to restrain themselves, given the example of our elected leaders. She's a pretty little thing. How much longer we gotta keep her?"

  "That's a good question, Steve. Her father's dragging this out; he's paid part of the ransom, but he claims to need a few more days to raise the balance. I think he's playing a game of some sort."

  "It's your boat, Ozzie. I just work here, but I don't like having her aboard. Something about her being here makes me uncomfortable."

  "Yes, well, I've decided to change the game a bit. We're going to let her entertain the troops. Perhaps she would consent to a private show later, after they've softened her up; the two of us can watch. If the Senator has behaved himself, we'll let him come along, too. I'm going to show her father what happens when he draws things out. I've already told your guys what to do; I'll post the video on the web and send her old man a link. That'll encourage him to move more quickly."

  "Will we bring her back aboard?" the captain asked, frowning.

  "Later, maybe, if we need to move her. I'd rather keep her ashore. The less time she spends aboard, the less likely it is that she can describe the boat. Let's just keep her in the apartment, right?"

  "Right." The captain's face relaxed.

  "That dump looks just like every other druggies' crash pad in the world. It's a perfect backdrop. Just the right atmosphere to create the mood we want for our little movie."

  ****

  The sun had been down for about an hour when Clarence, flying in stealth mode, dropped them in a clearing about a half-mile from the cabin they had spotted this afternoon. They all carried silenced pistols and combat knives, expecting to have surprise in their favor if they encountered any resistance. They had moved carefully through the jungle-like growth that bordered the sugarcane field until they had the cabin in sight. They were less than fifty yards away, watching carefully to see if there were any guards, when they heard two men talking. They settled into the undergrowth, listening.

  The men were conversing as they walked up the path leading to the cabin. One was carrying something over his shoulder, but they could see well enough by the moonlight to tell that it was not a weapon; it was too big. Dani was the first to recognize it for what it was.

  "Video camera, on a tripod," she whispered to Phillip, cupping a hand over his ear.

  He shrugged. "Maybe a tape to play for J.-P. Wonder how his stall tactics are playing out?"

  The two men's voices were becoming clear as they got closer, and it was apparent that they were arguing.

  "Ozzie make me the boss over this, so I get she firs' tonight," the man with the camera and tripod said in a heated tone.

  "But I don' know how to make the video, mon. I go firs', an' you get it all to run right. Then we sure we got she look good. I mash up the video, Ozzie not be one happy mon."

  "Shut up, mon. You went firs' this afternoon, an' she was prime, then. Nobody had she yet. My time, now."

  By now, they were at the door to the cabin, fumbling with a padlock.

  "Once they're in, we go," Phillip whispered. "Sharktooth, kick the door. I'll dive in and go right; you go left. Dani, you get Liz down out of the way. Paul, you stay back at the door and clean up what we miss."

  Just as they stood up, the men opened the door. There was a loud crash, and a blur at the back of the cabin as a lithe, blond figure raced for the woods. The men cursed, dropping the camera and taking off in pursuit.

  "We got the men, Dani," Phillip yelled. "You get Liz."

  Distracted by Phillip's cry, the two men turned around to find themselves staring down three pistol barrels at point blank range. They froze. Sharktooth immediately shot the one on the right in the kneecap. The other man was moving, and Phillip's shot missed his knee, passing through his calf.

  "Liz, stop! It's Dani!" Dani screamed as she ran. Her quarry didn't break stride. Puzzled, Dani broke into a sprint and soon made a flying tackle, her right shoulder driving into the small of the other woman's back as they crashed to the ground. The side of the girl's head smacked the ground, and she went limp in Dani's grasp. Dani rolled her over and stared at the swollen face that was battered beyond recognition.

  "Oh, Liz," Dani sobbed. She lifted the limp girl in a fireman's carry and took her back to the cabin. She lowered her burden carefully onto the filthy couch and turned to see Sharktooth dragging his screaming prisoner into the brightly lighted room, a firm grip around the ankle of his wounded leg. Phillip and Paul were on his heels with the other man, who hobbled in pain but was still on his feet.

  Once inside, Sharktooth pulled off his knitted hat, shaking his dreadlocks free.

  With a flash of recognition, the man who was still standing blurted, "Sharktooth!"

  Sharktooth smiled and nodded. "Zeke, James," he said, and then broke into his demented cackle, watching the brothers cringe.

  Dani wet a dirty towel at the sink and began wiping the dried blood from the unconscious girl's face. Then she saw the tattoos.

  "This isn't Liz," Dani said, before Sharktooth had a chance to say anything more. "Who is she?" she demanded, turning to look at the two men.

  James was on the floor, moaning, as he held his shattered knee. Zeke was still supported by Phillip and Paul. Sharktooth hit him in the solar plexus with blinding speed, and Phillip and Paul released him. The blow knocked him back into the wall, and he slid down to a sitting position, near his newly crippled brother.

  "Lady ax a question. You answer she," Sharktooth said, resting his right foot lightly on the bloody mess that had been James's knee.

  Zeke nodded, holding up his hands in a defensive posture, gasping. Sharktooth put a little weight on his right foot, and James howled.

  "She jus' some gal," Zeke said. "Ozzie say break her in;
he gon' put her to work, somewhere, once she learn to behave."

  "Where is Liz Chirac?" Dani asked.

  "Don' know no Liz," Zeke protested.

  James screamed at the top of his lungs as Sharktooth stepped down. He lost consciousness in mid-scream. Sharktooth shook his head, dreadlocks swinging.

  "Too bad he pass out," the big man mused, almost to himself. "We have to start on you, now." He was looking at James as he pulled out his filet knife.

  "I don' know no Liz," Zeke whined, his eyes big as he watched Sharktooth.

  "Gal from Vengeance, Zeke." Sharktooth moved closer, reaching down to cup Zeke's chin in his hand, lifting, stretching his throat. He made to bring the knife closer, watching Zeke's eyes trying to follow. He released his grip on Zeke's chin and stepped back. "You 'member, now? You lookin' fo' she the las' time we meet."

  Zeke nodded frantically. "Yes, mon, but she name Danielle Berger. No Liz."

  "I'm Danielle Berger, you moron. You fools kidnapped the wrong woman. Too bad for you, too. Now, where did you put her?"

  "Me an' James, we don' have nothin' to do wit' take she. Ozzie have other mens take she. Mens work fo' he in Bequia."

  "The more you tell us, the longer you get to keep breathing," Dani said.

  "Mebbe she on the yacht, Ozzie yacht."

  "Let's go ahead and kill the one with the bad knee. We'll take this one up to the big house and use him to show this Ozzie character what happens to people who don't cooperate," Dani said. Phillip nodded and raised his pistol, pointing it toward James.

  "Wait! Wait," Zeke protested. "Ozzie not here. Nobody at he house. He on he yacht, name Creole Belle, have a party."

  He told them as much as he knew about Ozzie's plans for the evening, including the fact that the yacht would be dropping all of the guests at Wallilabou sometime after midnight. When Zeke was finished, Dani and Phillip looked at one another briefly. She shrugged.

  Phillip nodded to Sharktooth, who shot James in the head. As Zeke was opening his mouth to protest, Sharktooth turned slightly and shot him through the heart with a different pistol. He carefully smudged the grips on the two pistols, and put the one he had fired most recently in James's hand squeezing the man's fingers around the grip. He then folded Zeke's fingers around the one he had used to shoot James. Paul nodded his approval, and they went outside.

  "We'd better take a look at the house," Phillip said.

  "If nobody's home, a quick search might be worthwhile," Paul agreed.

  Twenty minutes later, they returned to the cabin, and Phillip called Clarence, arranging for a pickup, while Sharktooth went into the cabin and brought the girl back outside, carrying her gently in his arms, as a normal-sized man might carry a sleeping child.

  Chapter 32

  Clarence landed on the sweeping lawn in front of Ozzie Johnston's house. Although there was no one in the immediate vicinity, he was flying in stealth mode. The helicopter sat on Ozzie's lawn emitting a soft hum as the passengers scrambled aboard. They strapped the battered girl into a seat, wedging her in place with rolled blankets.

  "What happened to her?" Clarence asked.

  Phillip looked over and shook his head. "Don't know, exactly. Two of Johnston's guys were abusing her. The plan was to put her to work as a prostitute, somewhere. She made a break for it just as we hit the cabin, and Dani chased her down and tackled her. She took a pretty good bump on the head, but I'm worried that she hasn't come around by now. Could be they had her doped up, or something. We thought she was Liz at first, until Dani saw that she had tattoos."

  "Druggie, probably," Clarence said. "Islands are full of them. These guys get hold of 'em, and once they figure out nobody's missing them, it's all over. The best looking ones get sold off to the highest bidder, and the rest, they just end up on the streets or in a brothel, turning cheap tricks." He grimaced. "So, where to, folks?"

  "Martinique," Phillip answered. After some debate, he and Dani had agreed that dealing with Creole Belle, Johnston's motor yacht, was a task better accomplished using Midnight Thunder. Besides, they could get the battered girl into a first-rate hospital there and at least give her some chance of recovery. "But only Paul and the girl are going with you. Dani and Sharktooth and I are going to borrow that S.U.V. over there and take a ride down to Wallilabou. We're going to try to catch Johnston's yacht there. Paul's going to run back with Midnight Thunder and pick us all up in a few hours."

  "You got it. I'll drop Paul right at Thunder, and I'll take care of the girl. If we move it, he should be back in two and a half or three hours." Phillip closed the passenger door, and he and his companions backed away, clearing the area before Clarence took off with a loud whoosh and disappeared into the night sky. Phillip looked at his watch, tapping it with his index finger.

  "I know," Dani said with a chuckle. "Seems later, with all that's happened."

  ****

  Liz was crouched in the gully beside a paved road, watching as a minibus negotiated the sharp curve just down the hill from her. It was the second bus that had passed since she made her way to the road, but she had no money, and she was worried that she would be too memorable if she tried to talk her way into a free ride. She was still only a few hundred yards from the apartment.

  She had escaped through the window with no problem, even replacing the plywood, thinking that might buy her a few minutes as her former captors tried to figure out how she got away. The back of the building was close to a steep, overgrown hillside, and she had scrambled through the undergrowth, climbing until she found the road. She had no idea where she was; she could be on any one of several islands, so she didn't know which direction to take.

  When she had looked back down the hillside after she had gotten a few yards into the undergrowth, she had been able to see a small harbor, with several catamarans on moorings, and a small, open-air bar with loud music. The catamarans all bore the logo of one of the big bareboat charter operations. They were brightly lighted, and she saw people aboard some of them -- people on holiday, she guessed. The big motor yacht that had brought her here was nowhere to be seen. Nevertheless, she reasoned that there was no safe haven for her in the little settlement. Her captors had chosen this place for a reason, so she wanted to get as far away from it as she could, as quickly as she could, before she showed herself to another person.

  She sat and pondered the problem. She reasoned that whatever island this was, she must be on the western side, since the yacht that brought her here had anchored in protected water. Protected water almost always meant the leeward side of the island. In the trade wind belt, that was the western side. Most of the islands had numerous small settlements along their western shores; she was sure that this one would, too. She concluded that either direction would work equally well, so she started walking to the south.

  She had been walking for just over a minute when she saw headlights approaching from the north. She jumped into the ditch, crouching, watching as the vehicle, some sort of truck or S.U.V., slowed and turned off the road, heading down toward the village where she had been held. She climbed back up to the shoulder of the road and resumed her walk to the south, feeling the road rise as it climbed over a ridge. She hoped that once she crested the ridge, she would find another settlement nestled on the shore of another cove. If not, she would keep walking.

  The rubber boots were too big, and her feet were beginning to blister. There had been no socks among the pieces of moldy clothing. She wondered if she would fare better barefooted, but quickly decided against that alternative. Much of the rock underfoot was broken lava with razor-sharp edges.

  ****

  Phillip, Dani, and Sharktooth were crouched in the undergrowth behind what appeared to be a small apartment building with boarded windows. They had left the stolen S.U.V. at the side of the access road to the village after turning off the highway. They had avoided walking on the access road, staying in the jungle-like undergrowth to the north until they could make out the buildings in the moonlight. They were
at the corner of the decaying apartment building, looking down into the sleeping village of Wallilabou. The village had been turned into a movie set several years ago, and it had been a tourist attraction for a brief period after that, before the movie faded from popular memory. Those days were gone, and the shabby, cheaply constructed buildings that had been thrown together by the film crew were being reclaimed by nature. The anchorage, one of the few along St. Vincent's west coast, was still popular, particularly with the bareboat charter crowd. Petty theft was a problem, but the vacationing boaters only discovered that after they became victims. There were a few chartered catamarans bobbing in the quiet water.

  "One o'clock," Phillip whispered. "Paul's probably just left Martinique. Figure he's two hours from us, give or take a bit."

  Dani and Sharktooth nodded, but before either could say anything, they all heard the sound of cars grinding down the steep access road. They stepped back into the bushes as the first car entered the crude parking area, now overgrown, since the bus tours no longer came here. Soon, they counted ten dark-colored luxury sedans. The drivers got out and began visiting with one another, standing around, smoking.

  "Come to greet the Creole Belle, you think?" Dani whispered.

  "Probably," Phillip agreed. "Looks like a regular government motorcade, or a funeral procession, doesn't it?"

  "Government plates," Sharktooth added, in his own deep whisper.

  Chapter 33

  Within ten minutes, the waterfront was bathed in light from the spotlight on a large motor yacht, just approaching the little cove. They watched as the big vessel stopped and turned, bow pointing out to sea, and the rattle of anchor chain split the quiet night. A large hatch opened along the port quarter, soon disgorging a big rigid inflatable tender. Two crewmen in white uniforms climbed into the tender and took it around to a stern platform, where a crowd of well-dressed men staggered around in drunken confusion. They began piling into the tender in a rowdy, noisy mob. Eventually everyone was aboard, and the tender eased away, headed for a rickety dock. The men made it ashore without anyone falling in, although there were some narrow escapes, and with much laughter and backslapping, they got into the waiting cars and left. The tender went back to the motor yacht.