Gardens of the Queen

by Nicholas Harvey

  “Sydney, Carlos, you better come and see this!”

  Carlos stumbled sleepy eyed from the guest bedroom as Sydney joined Pearl in the living room.

  “What’s up?” she asked and Pearl just pointed at the television.

  The video was from a news helicopter looking down on the water where several police marine unit boats could be seen. An excited reporter was describing the scene, “Police are on site where the as yet unidentified plane can be seen on the sea floor in the shallow water just outside North Sound reef. Police and the Airport Authority have declined to comment at this early stage so many questions remain unanswered, such as where did the plane originate from? Was it a victim of the storm and who was aboard? It is still undetermined whether the pilot survived this frightening crash or if it now becomes a search and recovery.”

  “We didn’t crash, we landed,” Carlos muttered defensively as Pearl turned the volume down on the reporter as he babbled on repetitively with no new information.

  “Reg texted me and told me to check the news – he said Cayman 27’s news helicopter was out there. He got a call to help investigate the wreck this morning,” Pearl explained.

  Sydney was surprised, “Reg is out there with the police?” She and Carlos both looked at Pearl, confused.

  Pearl smiled. “Don’t worry, they ask him to help any time there’s tricky diving involved, but he won’t give anything away.”

  Relieved about Reg, Carlos still rubbed his temples anxiously. “I can’t believe the water is so clear already, I thought we’d have days before anyone would find the plane.”

  Sydney shook her head. “Look how it’s smashed up against the reef; the wing’s sticking out of the water so even if they didn’t see the plane they would have found the wing and started looking. I still can’t believe we were inside that at the bottom of the sea.”

  “This is bad,” Carlos groaned.

  “What does this change?” Pearl asked as the news station continued to loop their one minute of footage.

  Carlos looked at her with tired and worried eyes. “They know we’re on Cayman.”

  Pearl agreed. “Sure, but there’s no way anyone seeing this will believe someone could have survived.”

  Carlos slowly shook his head. “With no bodies? Mikhail will figure it out.”

  Chapter 25

  Mikhail stood by the window of his third-floor hotel room overlooking a stylish pool and Seven Mile Beach beyond. He dialled a number on his mobile phone and waited for an answer. Speaking in Russian, he glanced back at the television screen showing the news coverage of the crash scene. “They’re here in Cayman, they crashed in the storm. Or more likely they made it look like they crashed in the storm; no bodies recovered so far.”

  The man on the other end of the crackly connection sounded older and spoke with an authoritative tone, “Then your decision to go straight there was fortuitous.”

  Mikhail ignored the dig. “We won’t have much time; the authorities were suspicious when we arrived, now they have a Cuban plane mysteriously crash at the same time we showed up. They’ll want to talk to us again.”

  “You’d better get started then, this business needs to be successfully concluded right away. You have two days maximum,” the man asserted.

  Mikhail paced about the room while he listened to his superior but remained calm in his response, “I understand. Make sure the Cubans tell them it was Rojas alone in the plane,” he instructed. “If the local authorities think the Caymanian girl was aboard we’ll have a lot more trouble.”

  The man replied in an annoyed tone, “They have been instructed, do not concern yourself with the details this end, you need to focus on finding Rojas.”

  “Still no trace of Bodden in Cuba, correct?” Mikhail probed.

  Even more irritated that his operative continued to question, “Of course not, we’d have informed you.”

  “She was on the plane as well, I’m sure of it,” Mikhail said more to himself than the Russian official.

  The man continued in his gruff tone, “Monday, construction begins Monday, Gurov, it’s in your hands to make sure none of this nonsense interferes with that. I got you out of Siberia, I can send you back there, understand?”

  Mikhail smirked ever so slightly. “I understand.”

  “Good, I’ve given you two good, capable men now you need to find that boy.”

  Mikhail stopped pacing as he replied, “He won’t show himself. It’s the girl I’ll find, she’ll lead me to him.”

  Chapter 26

  One day it was storming and the next it was clear blue skies with a few wispy white clouds and a gentle breeze knocking the edge off the balmy heat. Such was the tropics. AJ motored up to one of the government-placed dive-site buoys and Thomas used a long gaff to grab the line and tied in the boat. The west side hadn’t lain down perfectly flat like normal yet, but was settling quickly and the boat gently rolled back and forth. She shut the motor down and glanced at her phone sitting on the console, noticing she had a text from Pearl.

  ‘Story’s out, call me when you have a chance.’

  “Shit,” she muttered to herself; she too had hoped for a couple of days of anonymity for Carlos.

  Thomas scrambled back from the bow and started helping the guests get their gear ready for the dive. They had a full boat of eight divers, the maximum they’d take at any time, which left plenty of room to set up gear and move about on her thirty-six foot Newton, a sister boat to Reg’s fleet.

  AJ slid down the ladder from the fly bridge and joined Thomas in helping folks and chatting with the clients. She nudged Thomas when she got the chance. “Can you take first dive?”

  “Of course.” He saw the concern on her face. “Everything okay Boss?”

  She forced a smile. “I think so, just need to make a call or two, I’ll fill you in between dives, I’ll take the second one.”

  Thomas nodded, wondering what may have happened now. He considered himself adventurous, being one of the only Caymanian divemasters and instructors on the island he felt proved that, but somehow all the adventure seemed to happen at one time which he found a little overwhelming. When his sister had called him a few nights before, she’d said she and Carlos were in Cuba and she was helping him leave and seek asylum. Thomas had never met Carlos but he knew his sister had been dating him for a while and was very serious about their relationship, so that was good enough for him. He’d asked AJ if she could help and she agreed right away, because she trusted him. Now, with Russians and Cubans and crashed seaplanes and stories of oil deposits and cover-ups, it was getting much bigger than a humble island lad’s world was used to and he felt incredibly responsible dragging AJ and subsequently Reg and Pearl into all this.

  Thomas realised people were looking at him expectantly and confused he turned to AJ who chuckled. “Briefing?”

  “Yes! A briefing,” Thomas recovered quickly. “We’re at Eagle’s Nest here on the west side wall…”

  AJ left it to Thomas to finish his briefing and checked her phone again: another text, this time from Jackson. Her heart skipped a beat and she smiled at her own reaction. As the past four weeks had worn on she’d progressively tried to disconnect herself from her feelings for him, preparing herself for the loss she convinced herself was coming. It felt enlivening to brush all that aside and be warmed by thoughts of him again.

  She read the text: ‘Boss is fired up over this, needs to see the proof. Apparently I’m much nicer to be around since I spoke to you yesterday, shipmates say thank you.’

  AJ laughed like a schoolgirl and now it was her turn to have a boat full of people stare at her. Blushing, she set her phone aside and threw her hands in the air. “What? Why are you looking at me, the water’s that way! Anybody want to go diving today?!”

  She beamed as she and Thomas helped the customers into the clear blue water and Thomas slipped into his BCD and followed them in. Once everyone had safely descended AJ grabbed her phone and called Pearl.

 
“Hey Pearl, what’s going on?”

  Pearl sounded concerned. “The police spotted the wreck first thing this morning; Roy Whittaker got hold of Reg and had him go out there – I presume he’s diving it now. The news channel already picked it up though – didn’t take them long. Now they’re trying to make it into a big story.”

  “Boy I’m surprised they found it so quickly but if north is anything like the west side the waters have really lain down fast after the storm, vis even looks really good.” AJ thought for a second and then asked, “How’s Sydney doing with the hard drive?”

  Pearl spoke quietly, obviously keeping out of earshot of Sydney, “She’s having no luck, I don’t know a thing about computers but it seems this is harder than they thought to get into. She was swearing at it earlier but I haven’t heard any profanity in a while so fingers crossed she’s got something figured out. She’s a smart one so I’m sure she will.”

  AJ agreed, “She will. Tell them Jackson says the Sea Sentry guys are interested, so that’s hopeful.”

  Pearl promised to let her know of any updates and AJ switched to returning Jackson’s text. She smiled all over again as she reread his note. She typed a reply, ‘Pleased to assist in making you more friendly! Working hard on evidence this end, locked on a hard drive we’re trying to access. Hopefully today.’

  Chapter 27

  Reg took his time getting his gear ready to dive again, besides, Roy had them on hold until he knew more about the cases. In the detective’s mind they might need a Hazmat team out here and Reg was fine letting him worry about that for now. George didn’t hurry him along either; Reg figured he was thinking the next thing they would probably find would be a body, and he was fine delaying dealing with that. Even if the pilot had only been down there for twelve hours the ecosystem of the ocean would have started its work and human corpses picked apart by crabs, shrimps and fish were an ugly sight. A few more police boats had joined them and could be heard trolling the reef’s edge and shoreline, otherwise the day was finally sunny, peaceful with the soft waves of the North Sound lapping against the hull, and George seemed content chatting with his old friend.

  Detective Whittaker broke the tranquillity stepping over from the boat they were tied to.

  “Okay gentlemen, we know a little more. The Cubans have suddenly noticed they have an aeroplane missing now we’ve told them we have it.”

  Roy rested a foot on the bench next to the divers and studied his notebook. “According to them a young man named Carlos Rojas took the plane from his place of work, along with some equipment and information, hence the shipping cases you discovered Reg. They seem rather keen on recovering those cases which they say contain nothing hazardous, just geology gear.”

  Reg offered, “We can bring those up but will need some lift bags. Still a bit rough out there to use a boat winch, don’t you think, George?”

  George nodded in agreement. “We could wait till tomorrow when it lays down some more and winch ’em, or we can float ‘em if you need ‘em out today.”

  Roy thought for a moment. “I’d say bring them up as soon as we can.” He tapped his notepad on his knee and pondered a little more. “Strange coincidence, if you entertain such lines of thinking, which in the police force we tend not to… There’s a boat, from the same Geological Studies Institute the plane was stolen from, here in George Town harbour. Showed up last night apparently. Cubans are saying we should hand over everything we recover to the man in charge, a Russian guy. Bit odd, never seen or heard from any Cuban exploration or geology groups before and in one night a boat shows up and a plane crashes all from the same place.”

  “What about the pilot, this Rojas guy? They want him too I presume?” George asked.

  “Oh yes, they want him. Asked us to arrest him if we find him alive and they’ll have him picked up immediately. Facing some serious charges back home.”

  Reg scoffed, “Doubt they’ll have to worry about him, the way the doors were ripped off the plane and coming down in that storm I’m sure we’ll find their man floating somewhere in the sound.”

  “Dare say you’re right, Reg. Well, the Port Authority were going to hail the Cuban boat and track down this Russian fellow but no point waiting on him. What do you need to lift that gear out?”

  “Have to run back to my lock-up,” Reg answered. “Grab some lift bags, lines and some spare tanks. Take me an hour or two to round everything up but we should have them up this afternoon.”

  Reg figured that would stretch this project out a bit longer at least and hoped the girls were making progress on their end. He’d need to get clear of Roy and George before he could call and find out.

  “I’ll come and help,” George volunteered.

  Damn, Reg thought, but he couldn’t come up with a good reason to have him stay. “Alright George, thanks.”

  This whole situation was accelerating at an alarming rate and Reg was getting more and more uncomfortable not being straight with Roy. It was one thing hiding the kid for a night or two but now with Russian government officials from Cuba showing up, that escalated this thing out of all of their leagues. He felt like he’d been dropped in the middle of a James Bond movie. All this based on the word of one Cuban kid. What if he was just a thief? Wouldn’t be the first time a nice girl like Sydney had the wool pulled over her eyes by a smooth-talking fella. He thought about Carlos and the little time he’d spent with him so far; didn’t seem like a bad bloke and he’s not really the smooth talking type… more of an excitable, good-looking nerd… Reg stowed his gear for the ride back across the sound and decided to play along a little longer. What could he say to Roy at this point anyway? “Hey Roy, forgot to mention, I happened to be out here yesterday in the storm diving the plane and your Rojas boy is currently in my living room eating everything we put in front of him.” No. Best roll with it for now.

  Chapter 28

  Jeremiah and Wilma Bodden had lived in the same single-storey home in West Bay since they married twenty-six years ago. The house flooded during hurricane Ivan in 2004, had a new roof after Paloma thanks to an errant tree branch, but they’d happily raised their two children there and had no need or plans to move. The back yard was a good size, and seemed a little bigger once they had trimmed the rest of that tree down some and fit the whole family whenever they had an excuse for a gathering. Wilma enjoyed her mornings to herself. Jeremiah would leave early to get his fishing boat on the water at dawn, Thomas was gone before sunrise to prepare the dive boat for the day and of course Sydney was in Miami in school. She missed having her little girl in the house but was proud of what both her children were achieving.

  She and Jeremiah had worked long and hard to pay off their house which was how they could manage a little help putting Sydney through university. Once the kids were both old enough for school, Wilma took a job cleaning rooms at one of the hotels on Seven Mile Beach, but Jeremiah finally talked her into quitting a few years back and now she ran a sewing business from the house. Curtains, clothes, covers, Wilma could sew just about anything and kept a steady stream of work running through her machine. Didn’t pay quite as well as cleaning hotel rooms but she could get her day’s work done by early afternoon when her husband returned and they enjoyed spending their afternoons together pottering about the house and running errands.

  Wilma was just folding up some tablecloths she’d finished sewing for a local café when she heard a knock at the door. Wearing sweat pants and a faded old Mermaid Divers tee shirt she didn’t feel very presentable for company but if it was her friend who mentioned she may stop by this morning it’d be fine. It wasn’t her friend. When she opened the door a stern-looking man in his forties with square shoulders and close-cropped hair, wearing business slacks and a jacket with a button-down shirt, stood before her. He sported aviator sunglasses which he didn’t remove. She’d never seen this man before.

  “Can I help you?” Wilma asked in her thick Caymanian accent.

  The man flashed some kind of ID card at
her and replied in English with an accent she didn’t recognise, “Are you Mrs. Wilma Bodden?”

  “Well… yes, I am, how can I help you?” she repeated, more than a little suspicious.

  He continued without changing expression, “May I come inside? I’d like to discuss your daughter.”

  Wilma didn’t step aside and continued to hold the door half open, “What about my girl? Who did you say you were now? Why you asking about Sydney?”

  “I represent the Cuban government Mrs. Bodden. We have reason to believe that your daughter may have got herself mixed up with an unsavoury gentleman. Ma’am, it would be better if we could step inside and discuss this.”