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

by Charles Dougherty

  "Some fishermen found him, clinging to a lobster pot float, miles out to sea."

  "And how did you get him, houngan?"

  "He was unconscious, and the fishermen could not wake him, so they brought him to me to care for. When he came to, he was like a rabid dog; he was a danger to all of the people in the bateye, and we could not go to the authorities." The houngan smiled sadly. "So, finally…"

  "And how long does it take to do this, this…"

  "To make the zombie?" the houngan asked.

  "Yes, I guess he is a zombie, isn’t he?"

  "What else would one call this thing, but zombie? It takes some days with the potion. First, to sleep for some long time, and then to adjust the amount, I think you would say. And then there is some time for training, teaching. Comprenez-vous?"

  "Yes, I see. So the time varies, then?"

  "Yes. Let us say, perhaps three weeks. This one, I have had for two months, no more. You must see; this is not magic after all. It is medicine. Nothing more."

  "And are they dangerous? Will they eat people, like in the movies?"

  The houngan shook his head, chuckling. "The movies. Pah! How can something without a mind be dangerous? It is dangerous like the gun is dangerous, maybe, or like the knife. It is an obedient creature. In the hands of the bad person, the evil master, the zombie will do evil, but it is the master’s evil. If you tell it to eat a person, then it will do that. Comprenez-vous?"

  "Yes, I see what you mean. And how long will they live?"

  "How long would you wish this creature to live? If you tell it to eat, to clean itself, do not allow it to harm itself, it will live until it dies from the age like you, or like me."

  "And if you stop the potion? What happens then?"

  "Then the zombie will be less obedient. The master controls it because of the potion."

  "So how long will it take to recover, after you stop the potion?"

  "No, my friend, it is not like that. There is no recover. That first potion, the one which produces the state like death, that one destroys some of the parts of the brain, maybe, the nervous system, I think it is. Always, this creature will have no mind after that first trance. The later potions, they satisfy some craving, so that the creature will obey in order to get the potion. Without the master, and the potion to make it obey, the creature will die from not eating. It is that simple, you see. The master, he has some large responsibility for keeping the creature alive. But, of course, in many ways, it seems no longer to be human, so some people think it does not matter if it lives or dies."

  ****

  Dani brought the dinghy alongside the ladder on the seawall in the Carénage. Liz scrambled ashore with a mooring line in hand, holding the dinghy steady while Lilly and the professor climbed the ladder.

  "That’s Young Street, right across the road," Liz said, pointing. "If you just walk up the hill a couple of blocks, the gallery you’re looking for will be on the left side of the street. Almost straight across from it, there’s the place I told you about with all of the hand-printed fabric. If you want lunch ashore, any of these places along the Carénage will feed you well. When you’re ready for a pick-up, just call Vengeance on channel 16 on the handheld radio, and one of us will zip in and pick you up."

  "Got it, Liz! Thanks," Lilly said, a pleasant smile on her face.

  Liz stepped back into the dinghy, and she and Dani headed for the Customs office at the Grenada Yacht Club to change their departure schedule.

  "Good morning, Captain!" The customs officer greeted Dani as she and Liz walked into his office. "Back so soon?"

  "Well, our guests decided to stay and go shopping," Dani explained.

  "Shopping is a good t’ing. We like for our visitors to go shopping," he said, smiling. "How long before you leave us?"

  "Tomorrow morning."

  "Well then, let’s not do all of the paperwork again for just a few hours. Let me just write a note on your clearance documents, okay?" He stretched out his hand for the paperwork.

  "Great! Thanks," Dani said, as he returned the documents.

  "No problem, Captain. Bon voyage, and come back soon."

  Liz and Dani walked into the open-air bar at the Yacht Club and sat down at a table, pausing first at the bar to order tea and biscuits.

  "Okay, Dani," Liz said. "Take a deep breath and relax. You can do this. Remember when you told me that some charterers were easier company than others?"

  "Yeah, but…"

  "Well," Liz interrupted, holding up a hand, palm toward her friend. "Look at it this way. Once this summer is over, things will be wonderful. We’re getting our quota of ‘bad’ out of the way all at once."

  "That’s for sure," Dani agreed, a rueful grin splitting her face. "Just keep me from killing him and everything will be all right. You’re right about Lilly. I might even like her if she had better taste in men."

  "Oh, she says he’s not half as bad as he seems. Apparently, he’s one of the foremost authorities on Voodoo as a religion. She was telling me about her thesis – they met because he’s the advisor for her Ph.D. program. She’s studying the melding of the whole group of West African tribal religions that happened in the Caribbean in the early colonial era with the forced conversion to Catholicism. She’s really into it, too. Her enthusiasm is contagious."

  "That does sound like more fun than what we studied," Dani said. "I can’t believe I ever wanted to be an investment banker."

  "Yeah. I know. I should have studied art but my father wanted me to get some credentials that would help me support myself."

  "Sailing’s a better way to make a living," Dani said, taking a sip of tea, inhaling the aroma of the slice of fresh, local lemon that garnished her saucer.

  "Even if we have to put up with the professor?" Liz asked, a gleam in her eye.

  "Even so," Dani agreed. "At least he brought a girlfriend. Imagine having to dodge that slimeball’s advances all summer if we didn’t have Lilly to keep him busy."

  Liz smiled, happy to see Dani recovering her normal cynical but composed demeanor, and they both burst into a fit of giggles.

  Chapter 2

  Martinez sat on a park bench in Lincoln Road Mall, watching the show. No matter how often he came here or how long he sat, he was always amazed at the variety exhibited by the human species. He never tired of people-watching, and nowhere was the people-watching better than at Miami’s South Beach. He tore his eyes from a stunning Latina in an almost invisible string bikini and six-inch spike heels. She strutted behind a pit bull on a rhinestone-studded leash. The dog was wearing sunglasses and a fedora, and the girl was wreathed in a thick cloud of blue smoke from a big cigar, which was clamped firmly in one side of her mouth. Inhaling her second-hand smoke as she swiveled by, her hips gyrating inches from his nose, he checked his watch, wondering where Tonio was.

  He suppressed a cough from the cigar smoke and looked up to see Tonio standing on the corner of the cross street, watching the girl with an exaggerated leer. Martinez picked up his neatly folded newspaper and rose to his feet, ambling toward the corner where Tonio still stood. Tonio was gazing at some new diversion, apparently oblivious to Martinez. As Martinez drew close to him, Tonio turned and began to walk along the sidewalk of the cross street, heading south, away from Lincoln Road Mall. Martinez followed a few paces behind him. After a short distance, the pedestrian traffic had thinned. Tonio stopped, leaning against the fender of a black Mercedes sedan and making a production of lighting a cigar. Once satisfied with the evenly glowing tip, he resumed his stroll. Martinez recognized the Mercedes by its diplomatic plates. As he drew level with the back bumper of the car, the rear passenger door opened into his path. He got into the car without hesitation, closing the door gently as the car pulled smoothly away from the curb.

  "You weren’t followed," said the well-groomed, nattily attired man on the other side of the back seat.

  Martinez made no reply; it was not a question, but a statement of fact. He put his newspaper into
the pouch on the seat-back in front of him and fastened his seat belt, waiting.

  "What did you learn in Martinique?" the man asked him.

  "It is true. What we have been told is correct. I have seen one, with my own eyes, but it is nothing like the ones in the movies, or on television."

  "How was it different, Martinez? You must tell me everything, please."

  "First, it was utterly passive. It moved only in response to commands from the master, and it showed no ability to anticipate what the next command might be. This is unlike the aggressive, dangerous monsters that popular culture in America finds so fascinating."

  "I see. And did it smell or look dead? Was the flesh decaying?"

  "No. Not at all. I asked the houngan about that. This notion of them being raised from the dead goes back to the days of slavery. The houngan or the mambo administered drugs to induce a death-like state and then the body was buried, but carefully, so as not to asphyxiate the victim. Then a great deal of foolery went into making the victim appear to be raised from the grave but still dead. This was mostly showmanship, to strike fear into the hearts of the ignorant and ensure compliance with the wishes of the houngan. This initial dose of drug destroys some of the nervous system, so the victim is alive, but with no mind, no will. Then the drug is changed to something that keeps the victim docile and craving the drug, so that he is obedient to the commands of the one who has trained him."

  "As we have heard, then?"

  "Yes. Exactly."

  "And could one of these creatures, these zombies, could it blend into a crowd here in the States, in a city, let us say?"

  "I am sure of it. The one I saw could have been any burnt-out druggie or wino that you might see on Collins Avenue late at night. Unremarkable in appearance -- just another bum. But he was seriously spaced out. Someone will have to be there, giving step by step instructions. Perhaps some small radio could be used. I don’t think it would be possible to program one of these creatures to carry out a task of any complexity. A separate command is required for each step, almost."

  "I see. That is perhaps different than we thought it would be, but I think this still could work, from what you have told me. You agree?"

  "Yes, but there is another problem."

  "And what is that?"

  "I don’t think we could safely bring these creatures into the country. Each one would require an escort, and I’m thinking it would attract far more attention than we wish. I have a solution, though."

  "Tell me."

  "We bring the houngan into the country and have him create these creatures for us here. I believe there are sufficient candidates among the street people. If a few of them disappear for a while, no one will notice. And there’s another benefit to doing it this way, as well."

  "I think I know what you mean, but go ahead, Martinez."

  "If one of them should be captured, or its remains are left behind after one of the actions…"

  "Yes! I like it. They will have an existing history, a real background, for the Homeland Security fools to find. There will be nothing that points to us. This is brilliant."

  "There is more, if you will permit me," Martinez said, a hint of a smile playing over his lips.

  "Of course. Tell me."

  "We can create an artificial ‘movement’ among the dispossessed of this evil nation, and make them think that it is their own homegrown, homeless have-nots who are responsible for the acts of terror. Done properly, this can shift the blame for the ‘problem’ to the conservative political forces, and keep the weak-minded liberals in power. This will make it far easier for us to deal with the U.S., will it not?"

  "Absolutely brilliant, Martinez. If you can do this thing as you say, there will be an important place for you in Caracas when we are finished."

  "Thank you, Mr. Ambassador," Martinez’s smile of gratitude never reached his eyes, but the Ambassador didn’t notice.

  ****

  Vengeance was coming to life, rising and falling in an easy rhythm as she responded to the building swell coming from the open sea to the east. She surged along at eight knots under full sail, silent but for the creaking, swishing sounds of a ship in harmony with the sea. The professor was below, braced in the corner at the desktop in the nav station working away at his laptop computer. Liz was in the forward stateroom that she and Dani shared when guests were aboard. She was sketching idly, thinking that she should soon head for the galley to make a salad and some sandwiches for lunch. Lilly was sunbathing in the cockpit, face down on the cushion on the leeward, downhill side, and Dani was lost in thought. She was braced comfortably behind the helm, leaning back, arms spread along the varnished teak perimeter of the cockpit. One leg was extended along the seat, the foot inches from Lilly’s shoulder; the other was bent sharply at the knee, its bare foot resting lightly on one of the spokes of the helm. Eyes closed, head back, face into the 15-knot breeze, Dani was sailing purely by feel, lost in her oneness with Vengeance and the sea.

  "This is why I’m here," she thought.

  "Why’s that?" Lilly asked, raising her head to look at Dani.

  "What?!" Dani said, coming upright, both feet on deck, hands flying to the rim of the helm.

  "You said something," Lilly said, settling down again.

  "Sorry," Dani said. "Thinking out loud, I guess. I didn’t mean to wake you."

  "Oh, I wasn’t asleep. Just completely relaxed, thinking of how lucky you and Liz are, living like this all the time."

  "It’s not a bad way to make a living," Dani said. "I was just thinking something similar, myself."

  "You said, ‘This is why I’m here,’ I think."

  "Hmm, could be. I can lose myself in the boat when she’s sailing like this. Life doesn’t get much better."

  They passed a few moments in comfortable silence, Dani thinking that maybe Liz was right about Lilly. Dani didn’t know much about the purpose of the professor’s summer visit to the islands. He had been referred by the charter broker, and he had exchanged a few brief emails with Dani as they made the arrangements. She remembered that he had mentioned a research project, but she didn’t think that he had disclosed any particulars.

  "Liz told me that you’re working on a Ph.D. in anthropology," she said. "Is there a connection to the islands, or is this mostly a holiday for you?"

  "Oh, no. It’s no holiday. The focus of my dissertation is the evolution of the tribal religions that were brought from West Africa by the slaves in the late 17th and early 18th centuries. It’s fascinating. You see, there was an influence from Islam in West Africa before the Europeans got involved in the slave trade, but it seems to have been relatively benign. Once the Europeans came along, though, there was the forced conversion to Christianity, particularly Catholicism. That had some interesting results."

  "Was this a ‘convert or die’ thing, like with the Jews in Spain?" Dani asked.

  "Could have been, I guess, but it didn’t turn out that way. The African religions weren’t as rigid as Christianity or Judaism, and they absorbed the Christian doctrines and melded them with their own beliefs in a seamless, synergistic fashion. Saints were readily accepted as embodying some of the loa, the lesser spirits that were the interface between man and the Supreme Being, for example. Elements of ritual were accepted and absorbed, too. The missionaries were quick to rationalize all of this as evidence that the fundamental beliefs were essentially the same and that the backward Africans just needed a little guidance. The Jesuits, in particular, wrote endless convoluted texts on this topic, as you might imagine. Of course, they were all quite mistaken."

  Dani decided that Liz was right. This woman was bright and articulate; she was clearly passionate about her interests. Dani was conscious of a shift in her opinion of Lilly, but she still wondered what the girl saw in the professor.

  "I’m sorry, Dani. Ask me a simple question and I fall into lecture mode. I’ve intruded on your enjoyment of a nice sail on your lovely yacht. How did you come to be in this business?"

/>   "Oh, I suppose I was born into it, Lilly. My father has always been a sailor, and he owned charter yachts in the Med when I was growing up. I worked summers as deck crew from my early teens through my university years, and discovered that my passion was sailing in the ocean."

  "What did you study at university?"

  "Finance. My mother’s family is in banking. I tried it for a while, but this is what I love. Your thesis sounds interesting. Is that the professor’s background, as well?"

  "Yes, it is," Lilly said. She went on to explain his qualifications and his fame in the field of cultural anthropology at some length. "I’m fortunate that he saw fit to serve as my advisor. The fact that he’s single and such a gracious lover is just a fringe benefit," she said, with a hard smile. "Just so you don’t misunderstand, our extracurricular relationship is purely my doing. I think he’s cute and it keeps everything focused on my goal. Neither of us is under any illusions about the long term. When I finish my degree, he’ll go back to being the heart throb of all the undergrad women and I’ll move on. For now, it suits."

  The predatory glint in Lilly’s eye struck a chord with Dani. Although their arenas and weapons of choice were different, she recognized a kindred spirit. She wondered if the professor shared Lilly’s attitude, as she consciously avoided smiling. Doubting that he did, she decided to change the subject.

  "Can you tell me a little about the plans for this summer?" she asked. "All I know is that you two have booked us through the end of October, and that we’re headed for Martinique after you spend a few days relaxing in the Grenadines."

  "Well, my own plan is to absorb as much of the culture and history of the islands as I can. Everything I know about this part of the world is from textbooks. I want to feel it, to gain some perspective that will let me evaluate what I’m learning as I study the folklore. I know I can’t really experience total immersion in the island life; there are just too many barriers. I want to come as close as I can, though. As for Chuck, if he has a plan, I’d be surprised. Did he tell you about the grant?"

  "Grant? No," Dani said, shaking her head. "What grant?"