Hung Out to Dry

by Hadford Howell

The Wayne brothers glanced at each other before Mick Wayne duly handed over their vehicle keys. It was only then they comprehended being almost encircled by several additional men who they immediately presumed to also be RBPF personnel. They wondered, Where did they come from all of a sudden?

  “Hold still while we put these on you guys,” said Fontain as he and a third officer shaped to place handcuffs on each brother.

  That task completed, Rice said, “Okay fellas, let’s roll out of here,” marshalling the portly Lorburn Wayne off to one of the unmarked RBPF vehicles. A third officer did likewise to Mick Wayne and pointed him towards a second similarly unmarked vehicle.

  “We didn’t mean to hurt nobody,” said Lorburn Wayne on reaching the RBPF vehicle.

  “I told you to shut up,” said Mick Wayne to his brother.

  “That may be true, but you’ll get a chance to tell your story to our boss at the station shortly and to the courts after that,” said Fontain following the Wayne brothers’ exchange.

  Five minutes later a convoy of four unmarked RBPF vehicles made their way from Brandon’s beach towards Central police station. There was no need to put on sirens.

  Two officers stayed behind to watch over the Wayne brothers’ Subaru vehicle until it could be collected.

  ***

  Day 3 of the Test Match ended with England having fought back somewhat, forcing West Indies to bat again. There was still some work to be done if the West Indies wanted to win the Test Match before the end of Day 5. Scores: West Indies 525 for seven declared; England 270 all out thirty minutes after lunch. West Indies, batting a second time, had not scored quickly but were still in a good position. They ended Day 3 on 218 for nine, an overall lead of 473 runs which most people knew was already more than enough runs to win the Test Match, weather permitting of course. Supporters of both teams and the media wondered why the West Indies hadn’t already declared. It was beyond them.

  The two sets of supporters left New Kensington Oval in different moods, Sir Thadeus amongst them. For the third day running, West Indian supporters felt good overall after a day’s play, although they did not understand their team’s reluctance to go in for the ‘kill’. The English supporters and UK cricket correspondents, on the other hand, were again unhappy. Yes, they had seen some fight from their boys in the post-tea session, but basic errors had continued to plague them while fielding. Three catches had been put down and a stumping opportunity missed. There was also some uncertain captaincy. These errors had allowed the West Indies to get away and had surely hindered England’s efforts to save the game. They would have to bat extremely well in their second innings on Days 4 and 5 and hope that the heavy overnight rainfall promised by the local weather office for Monday night and early Tuesday morning), would combine to ultimately help save them from defeat. If these things came to pass, then the three-match Test series would remain alive with one Test Match to be played.

  A big ask indeed! Nevertheless, both sets of supporters would return to New Kensington Oval tomorrow, determined to have some more fun at Day 4 of the Test Match.

  ***

  It was 6:15 p.m. Castille knew and was annoyed that he had spent another unproductive day. Wharton had not been very helpful – in fact he had not provided Castille with any reliable information on the current whereabouts of Power. The rumour Castille had heard about Power having left Barbados, possibly on Thursday night or early Friday, had not yet been substantiated by Wharton. Local, regional or internet media reports he’d trawled had been equally un-helpful.

  Room service and a quiet night beckoned before he would try to get some sleep. He knew that his hotel did not have on any entertainment tonight. Damn. A fifth lonely night in paradise, thought Castille.

  “I must have come to the wrong Barbados,” he said quietly to himself.

  Just then, the phone rang in his room. He was tempted to answer it by saying, “Mr Wharton, I presume,” but thought better of it.

  “Hello!”

  “Is that Mr Rice?” asked the caller.

  “Wrong room,” answered an annoyed Castille.

  “I’m so sorry, sir.” The caller hung up. Castille made a decision. He would order his evening meal from the room service menu forthwith. After eating his meal, he would take a walk on the beach and come up with a plan of attack for the next day. He recalled Wharton mentioning during one of their conversations that he ran a shop. Its location was unknown to him but he would establish its location and pay Wharton a visit first thing in the morning if he did not hear from him during this evening.

  Castille picked up the house phone and dialled the room service number.

  “Good evening. Room service. Sam speaking.”

  “Hello. Mr Castille in room 310. Please send me over meal number 14 on your room service menu, a pina colada and a pot of black coffee.”

  “Number fourteen, a pina colada and a pot of black coffee to room 310. Be about fifteen minutes, sir.”

  “That’s okay.” Castille hung up the house phone and switched on the television to see if he could find something interesting to watch. I wish I was back in Miami, he thought.

  ***

  The second telephone call to Brotherman Delaney came around 7:15 p.m. from the soft-spoken Vincentian whom Delaney had spoken with earlier in the day. It was unexpected.

  The earlier call Delaney had received around noon had confirmed that the original arrangements for their guest would remain in place. Now, this second call, its nature and timing, changed things radically. It was clear that the soft-spoken Vincentian man who had often given Delaney’s gang ‘projects’ to complete for him, had received information warning that if he was in anyway involved with keeping the escaped Barbadian safe and away from local law enforcement, he should move his guest from wherever he was currently located to a more secure one – sooner rather than later.

  The soft-spoken Vincentian had indeed been tipped off by a Government official who was now one of his best friends, having helped fund the official’s daughter’s completion of her master’s degree overseas a couple of years ago.

  “Brotherman, shift the package to the agreed back-up location Do it later tonight, ideally before 10:00 p.m.”

  “You sure about this? What’s changed?”

  “Don’t ask! Just make the move.”

  “Fine. I’ll have it taken care of. You’ve called ahead?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m onto it. Call you once it’s done?”

  “If you wish.”

  Following this latest conversation, Delaney stroked his long dreadlocks in wonder. He’d do as he was instructed. He knew that payment for his gang’s services was assured. He treasured his long-standing relationship with the Vincentian caller. Delaney hoped for and expected that their ‘business’ relationships would continue for a good while yet.

  ***

  “Wake up, Baje. Time to get moving,” urged Delaney.

  Rubbing his eyes, Power wondered what was happening.

  “Get moving? What’s up, Brotherman?” he asked.

  “You’re being shifted early. Instructions. I’ll give you ten minutes to get ready to move out.”

  “Why? Are your police onto me?”

  “Look man. I don’t know. I’ve got my instructions, so am just following them. Get yourself together. You want to survive in Vincie country or not?”

  “All right,” said a worried Power.

  I might have to make a break for myself because these people who should be looking out for me don’t seem to know what they are doing or what’s going on, he was thinking.

  “Here, move with this just in case.”

  “You’re expecting trouble, aren’t you?”

  “No, but just in case we ah, run into any of our law enforcement friends along the way, although I don’t expect to.”

  With that, Delaney handed Power a bag with a few items. Power felt inside the bag and clasped the barrel of some kind of a firearm. He pulled it out and examined it briefly. The look
he gave Delaney suggested that he was not convinced that the firearm would work if he was forced to use it. It’s better than nothing., thought Power.

  Seeing the look Power had given him, Delaney spoke. “Trust me, it works! I’ve used it myself a couple of times.”

  “I can tell that it’s loaded. Got any extra shells?” asked Power.

  “Yes, in the bag,” answered Delaney. Power felt inside the bag and found them before nodding as Delaney left him. Power went into the bathroom to wash his face and relieve himself. There was no time to do much else. Once out of the bathroom, Power put on his training shoes and went outside to join Delaney for the journey with the bag he had been given.

  He hoped Delaney was not in the process of selling him out.

  ***

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Found

  Wharton received a frantic call at 7:25 p.m. from Norbert ‘Nobby’ Kirton. He had noticed up to four security service (police and army) vehicles moving around in his Pigeon’s Nest, St Michael village from late afternoon. They appeared to be looking for something, or someone.

  Given his involvement in the prisoner’s escape on Wednesday, what should he do? Kirton was not someone who panicked easily. Effectively Wharton’s closest associate in the Pressure Group gang, they had been friends since primary school. Their gang had been up and running now for close to four years, both having effectively ‘graduated from similar units’ as they liked to call them from around Barbados. As a result, Wharton and Kirton tended to see things – situations and opportunities, more clearly that the other two members of their gang. Any concern of Kirton would also be such to Wharton.

  “Sit tight but be ready to move out if things start going south.”

  “I hear you,” said Kirton.

  “No reason to think that we’re blown, but let’s meet up in half an hour.”

  “Usual place?”

  “Yes.”

  “Right. I’ll call the others.”

  “Good. Be jolly now.”

  ***

  Members of the RTF unit were still at its HQ running down their sources for any information that may have been out there on Power’s whereabouts. However, no serious leads had shown up. Unit members had even considered lucky ways they might be able to apprehending Power, but none were practical or reliable.

  JJ, desperate to help, was thinking hard about how Power might be located. What if Gomez tried something that had worked in Barbados following a hit and run incident which had enabled RBPF and BIB to quickly track down the responsible culprits? It would involve diligence, hard work and Gomez’s agreement to use all members of his RTF unit and if just one of them got lucky, who knows what might result?

  He touched Gomez and moved away from the group. Gomez followed him into a corner of the room.

  Speaking softly, JJ said, “TG, I’ve an idea. How about if we ask your RSVGPF colleagues on the move and at stations to inform you of any reported major traffic accidents or traffic infringements over the past 24 hours, or of any that might occur between now and tomorrow morning. Once we’re aware of such and the people involved, the locations, etc., we might get lucky and find someone connected to Power. We might then be able to track him down in some way. Remember, we’re pretty sure that Vincentians are helping Power to hide out,” JJ concluded.

  “Man, they are some long shots that you’re trying to make me play, but I’ve nothing to lose. Let’s try what you say,” responded Gomez.

  “Since you’re in, can we go a bit further –” started JJ.

  “Hey, I think I have your train of thought. You’d also like me to secure reports of any patients who might have attended hospital A & E’s, clinics or doctor’s offices for unusual treatment like from a road accident, fights, domestic dispute etc., right?”

  “Well, yes. Given Power’s violent history, we might also be on the lookout for patients with stab or gunshot wounds as a result of robberies too over the past few days,” said JJ optimistically.

  Gomez smiled. “Genius! I’ll get my boys onto it. I’ll only ask for reports from mainland St Vincent initially though, so would expect to start getting information within a couple of hours,” responded Gomez.

  “TG, I don’t mean to order you to do this. I’m just trying to help out,” said JJ.

  “JJ, we’ve known and worked with each other over time. No sweat. We’re going to catch your guy. When we do, we’ll want you and your people to get him out of SVG and back behind bars in good old Barbados,” said Gomez.

  Gomez excused himself and went over to speak with Arnold and Conway. Their task was to get the word out to the specified Vincentian entities. Gomez also instructed that any responses with relevant information be related to him immediately, no matter what time of night it was as he planned to spend the night at the RTF’s HQ compound.

  ***

  It was 8:15 p.m. when Commissioner Jeremie received word from Vickers that Dr Albert Lewis, Deputy Governor, CBOB had been found and was alive and well, though he was hungry and dehydrated. He was being taken to the country’s main medical facility, Queen Elizabeth Hospital (QEH).

  “Thank God for that,” said Jeremie.

  “Sir, will you call the Prime Minister and Governor Edwards, and can I notify the family?”

  Jeremie agreed to Vickers’ three suggested actions, adding, “Good job, Johnny.”

  “Thank you, sir. Have a good evening.”

  Vickers’ looked up the Lewis’ number from the ‘Contacts’ section in his phone. He called and spoke with Bertram Lewis. Vickers passed on the good news that Dr Lewis had been found and was safe following a rescue intervention by an RBPF team. He was being taken to QEH to be medically checked over. Vickers encouraged Lewis to inform the rest of the Lewis family and suggested that they make their way to QEH in another half-an-hour or so to see their husband and father.

  ***

  Jeremie made the promised calls. The Prime Minister’s phone was not answered, so after half a dozen rings Jeremie sent him a brief WhatsApp message: “Lewis found alive and well. He’s now at QEH being medially checked-out. Please call me at your convenience for further update. Com J.”

  It was only then that Jeremie remembered that Motby was attending the LP concert at the Garfield Sobers Sports Complex. That explained Motby’s unusual behaviour of not answering his phone. It made no sense Jeremie calling Walford to ask him to ask Motby to take the call either, as this was not a national emergency, though important. Jeremie did not want to disturb Motby on one of the few nights (no, hours) that he was taking away from Government business, except for when he was asleep. They would undoubtedly speak later, and this would give Jeremie more time to gather additional information on what had transpired with Dr Lewis over the past five days he had been missing.

  Next, he called Governor Edwards who was over the moon on hearing the news.

  “I’m much relieved…and grateful to you, Commissioner. I’m available to make my way over to see Albert shortly if that’s advised. Otherwise I’ll catch up with him tomorrow, at home I presume. I take it his family has also been advised?”

  “They are being informed by Chief Superintendent Vickers as I speak with you, Governor.”

  “I thank you and members of your Force for their excellence work on this. I’ll speak with you again soon and write formally to express my and the Bank’s appreciation for everything,” said Edwards.

  “No problem Governor. That’s what we’re here for. Goodnight.”

  Jeremie also decided to make a third call. Colonel Burke received the information calmly and stated that he would alert his operatives who had been working on the case accordingly.

  ***

  Bertram Lewis, having taken the brief call from Vickers, informed his sister and mum that Dad had been found alive and well. Mrs Lewis started to sob, not in pain but from pure relief. Caroline Lewis-Greenidge wanted to know more. Was her dad really okay? Where was he found? How soon could they see him? When would he be able to come home? />
  Lewis held up his hand.

  “Hold on, sis. Let me tell you what little Chief Superintendent Vickers told me…”

  After relaying what he’d been told by Vickers, Lewis suggested they all get dressed to go to QEH. Fifteen minutes later they were set to get underway. Everyone was relieved that Dr Lewis had been found and was apparently in a good condition. What had happened to him over the past five days could be established later. Mrs Lewis sat in the back seat of the car. She was still crying, but in a happy way. Lewis-Greenidge sat beside her mother. Having always been close to her dad and often said to be ‘the apple of his eye’ by other family members, she was staring out of the window while holding her mother’s hand, remembering more fun times she’d spent with her dad.

  Ava Prescod sat in the front seat beside Lewis. She had spent Sunday with the Lewis family and when asked by Mrs Lewis to accompany them to QEH, had willingly agreed to do so. Dr Lewis was a good man to work for and he’d never been known to leave her out of any major family celebrations. She guessed this was another such occasion, going to see that he was fine along with the rest of his delighted family.

  ***

  Moss had worked his way through most of the properties (eight of the ten guesthouses, twenty-five of the thirty hotels) on the south coast by 8:30 p.m. He’d only taken a break once during the day to grab a cup of coffee and eat a double slice of pizza. Not his usual Bajan Sunday lunch at all!

  He was therefore ‘running out of gas’ when the call had come through from Vickers for him to urgently make his way to QEH. The call had surprised him, given the mandate he had earlier been given by Vickers to try and complete the task that he had been set by the evening. Moss had already sent home the two rookie police constables that Vickers had provided to help Moss from mid-afternoon in an attempt to complete the exercise that night. Vickers’ call effectively changed the outcome of that objective.