Silvio strolled into the galley where Pavlo was set up at the table. He nodded at the Russian. “How’s it going?” he asked, for something to say more than interest.
“We’ve got them,” the Russian declared proudly. “It was just a matter of time.” He smiled smugly.
Silvio looked slightly surprised. “That’s good.” He responded before he had contemplated what that really meant. At the end of the day it probably meant that his friend Carlos would be locked away for the rest of his life, or more likely he’d be executed. He didn’t think that was good. But what could he do?
Chapter 59
Carlos alternated between looking out the window, checking his watch and swearing in his native tongue. It had been forty-five minutes since Sydney left and no sign of her. His mind raged with scenarios from Mikhail abducting her to the police picking her up to Sydney being suddenly struck with good sense and leaving him. God knows he deserved it, he thought; who in their right mind would put up with this madness, risking everything for his crazy stand to save a reef and some fish? He paced around and had an extra bout of foul language, digging deep in his repertoire of Spanish swear words. The door from the deck slid open and Sydney shot in, closing it quickly behind her. Carlos pounced on her, throwing his arms around her and squeezing her as tightly as he could.
“I was so scared, so scared, I thought they’d got you,” he babbled half in Spanish, half in English.
She relaxed in his arms and soaked up the moment, savouring the urgency and safety of his embrace. After the tension and fear she’d just been through his arms felt like a fortress around her. Involuntary tears rolled down her face and dampened his shirt.
“Someone saw me,” she managed. “I hid in the bathroom.”
She tore herself away from his arms and carefully looked around the curtain to the jetty and car park; all looked clear.
“Who saw you?” Carlos asked urgently.
“I don’t know, I think it was someone from school or maybe just from town, but he called my name.”
“Shit, what did you do?” He put a hand on her shoulder as she stepped away from the window.
“I pretended I didn’t speak English and ran into the bathroom.” She laughed at how silly that sounded.
“What did he do?” Carlos persisted.
“He waited a while and then walked off, I think, I mean I couldn’t see but I heard his footsteps. I didn’t see him when I came out and ran back.”
He softly wiped a tear from her cheek. “It’ll be fine, hopefully he thinks he was mistaken. It’s okay my love, you’re safe now.” He drew her close again and held her.
She whispered in his ear, “If we run out of food there’s a cat out there I’m okay frying up.”
Chapter 60
Whittaker marched through the expansive lobby of the Marriott Hotel on Seven Mile Beach with a constable in tow. Guests in bathing suits or shorts and golf shirts milled about heading for the pool and the golf course. Roy grinned at the constable as he was distracted by a couple of young ladies in particularly skimpy swimsuits. He flashed his badge to the receptionist before she could start her greeting monologue.
“Detective Whittaker and my associate Constable Spalding. I talked to your manager on the phone, a Mr. Johnson, is he available?”
The young lady smiled although she was clearly alarmed by the police showing up. “One moment please, Detective, let me check for you.”
She scuttled off to the offices behind the lavish reception desk and quickly returned with a smartly dressed Caymanian man who looked equally concerned.
“Hello, I’m the manager, you must be Detective Whittaker?” They shook hands and Johnson made his way out from behind the desk.
“Nice to meet you Mr. Johnson and thank you for helping us at short notice,” Roy said, smiling.
The manager glanced around the lobby, probably worried how the police presence might affect gift shop sales and beckoned the men to follow him, seemingly eager to get them out of sight. Whittaker held out some paperwork. “Here’s the search warrant.” Johnson didn’t even look back to see it.
“I’m sure you have everything in order, Detective, let’s just get this done as quickly as possible.”
Whittaker shrugged his shoulders, put the paperwork back in his jacket pocket and followed the man down a hallway until they arrived at the room they were looking for. Johnson knocked loudly on the door.
“Hotel manager, may I have a word sir?”
No response. He knocked again and paused a moment before swiping his master key. “I’m entering the room sir.”
Whittaker put a hand on his shoulder and stopped him entering. “Best you wait out here, we’ll let you know when we’re done.”
Disappointed, the manager stepped aside and let the two policeman enter the hotel room. Whittaker proceeded cautiously but announced his presence, “Royal Cayman Islands Police Service entering, please show yourselves if you’re present.”
The room was clear and the constable checked the bathroom and announced it was clear as well. The men relaxed a notch and, donning nitrile gloves to preserve any evidence, they began their search of the room. It was a twin room with two queen-size beds and Roy noted two duffel bags indicating the Russians were sharing the room. He lifted the first bag onto the bed and began examining the contents. Spalding checked in the bedside table drawers, under both beds and the dresser draws, finding nothing belonging to a visitor. He moved to the second duffel bag. Roy found nothing but clothes in the bag he’d searched and after checking the duffel thoroughly for hidden pockets and double lining he returned the garments.
“Sir!” Constable Spalding blurted, reaching in the bag he was searching. “You’ll want to see this.”
Spalding carefully held up a revolver by the barrel, staying well clear of the trigger.
“Well I’ll be...” Roy muttered.
Shaking out a clear plastic evidence bag Spalding asked, “Surely they know we don’t allow firearms on the island sir?”
“Indeed, I’m sure they know,” Whittaker calmly commented, “but on the positive side, one –” he pointed at the revolver “– he doesn’t have his gun with him, and two –” he smiled at the constable “– we can now arrest the arsehole.”
Chapter 61
Neither Carlos or Sydney had slept well for days so it didn’t take much for them to fall asleep on the comfortable sofa, her head snuggled against his chest. Coming down from her excitement from earlier, Sydney drifted off quickly while Carlos faded in and out. With tired eyes half open he traced the line of her arm with his hand; her skin felt warm, smooth and comforting. His fingers came to rest at the watch on her wrist and he smiled as his eyes closed again. He hadn’t been able to afford an expensive watch but apparently it was waterproof to at least forty feet, as it was still working. The water lapped at the hull and the gentle breeze made a soothing whisper as it softly rocked the boat. The floating pier system creaked and groaned in a low tone that seemed to have a slow rhythm in time with the water brushing the boat. And then it didn’t. The creaking went out of rhythm. Subtly and quietly, the sounds were out of phase and Carlos’s senses went on high alert. He gently placed a hand on Sydney’s shoulder and squeezed firmly. “Wake up.”
She mumbled but didn’t wake so he lifted her head from his lap. “Sydney, wake up.” She stirred awake and started to speak but he put his finger to his lips, “Be silent. Let me get up.”
She sat up and he turned around, very carefully moving the curtain enough to see the jetty. He did not recognise the man who was slowly walking towards the Rum Runner, slacks, button-down shirt, polished black shoes, close-cropped haircut, but he had the same look as a Russian he did know and that was enough.
“They’ve found us!” he whispered frantically. Sydney was mortified and froze for a second.
“To the stateroom, quick.” He led her to the forward main bedroom and grabbed the rucksack that still lay there. He unzipped the top and pulled out everythin
g except the hard drive then stuffed a shirt back in around it for padding.
“There’s no where to run Carlos, what can we do?” she stammered, looking over her shoulder and expecting the door to burst open any second.
“I won’t be running, I’ll be swimming,” he smiled reassuringly at her.
She looked at him, confused. “You can’t take the hard drive in the water.”
“I’m not. As soon as he comes in the water after me, you will run and take this.” He slipped the rucksack over her shoulder and held the other strap for her to put her other arm through.
“Carlos no, I’m not leaving you, we can’t be separated!”
He leaned in, giving her a firm kiss and then reached up and sprung open the window hatch in the ceiling that opened to the bow of the boat, forward of the bridge. “You must, my love. He can’t chase us both and he will not outswim me and once you are clear he can’t outrun you.”
A soft thud came from the stern and the boat rocked slightly, which they knew had to be the man stepping down to the deck. He was moments away from opening the door. Sydney swung around to look and Carlos used the bed to step up and pull himself through the hatch.
“No, Carlos, this is crazy!” she whispered desperately. He crouched and looked back down at her through the hatch. His eyes sparkled and pierced to her very core. “I love you.”
With that he stood up, took one step towards the railing and leapt over, shattering the afternoon quiet with a loud splash as he hit the water.
Sydney froze. They’d gone from asleep to complete chaos in a matter of seconds and now the man she loved was in the water and a Russian agent was twenty feet away from her on the rear deck. She hadn’t heard a second splash. She urged herself into motion and softly stepped as quietly as she could towards the stern through the lounge. The rear glass was tinted so no one could see in during daylight but she could see out. She brushed the curtain slightly aside. There he was on the starboard side trying to see who or what had made the splash in the water.
Anatoly scanned the surface where big ripples waved out from where whoever it was had dived in but was yet to surface. He had no idea if this was the boat they were hiding on so it could be a kid playing around or some big bird diving for fish; fuck, he thought, could be some weird creature he’d never seen before on this sweaty damn island. A head popped up about fifteen feet from the boat towards the open water and the man turned and looked straight at Anatoly.
“Rojas!” the Russian yelled and instinctively reached for his revolver in his chest harness as he’d been trained to do, and practised endlessly. Nothing there. “Damn it,” he cursed and reached behind his waistband where he’d been hiding it from Mikhail. Nothing. Unbelievable, he thought to himself, here I have an easy kill I can do in my sleep and that bureaucratic idiot Mikhail makes me leave my weapon at the hotel. With his hand behind his back and his body rotated awkwardly he was completely caught off guard by the missile that launched from the door of the boat and hammered into him.
Sydney charged with all she could muster and dropped a shoulder to catch the Russian on his left side at the ribcage. His legs buckled over the low side of the boat and he tumbled awkwardly over and into the water with a huge spray and crash. With outstretched hands she just caught herself from following him into the bay. Without hesitation she turned, took one long stride, leapt from the deck to the jetty and accelerated in a full sprint towards the gate, the rucksack slapping against her back. Relieved the Russian had left the gate open she hesitated to look back but could see neither man. She forced her concern for Carlos aside, knowing he was a strong swimmer; she had to believe that with a head start he could lose the attacker. Her focus had to be on getting the hard drive as far from the agent as possible. She turned right into the car park and ran down the pathway behind the fence.
As overwhelming as the last few days had been, adrenaline and fear kept her focused and rising anger and frustration powered her long muscular legs along the path at the head of the jetties. Eight hundred metres was her speciality in track but she regularly ran five miles or more for endurance training and five miles on Grand Cayman covered a lot of ground. But where should she go? She had time to figure that out as she ran; there was only one way off this spit of land and it would take a few minutes to reach the highway.
It felt like she had hit a brick wall. Someone stepped from behind an SUV and Sydney slammed into him at full speed. Stunned and dazed she had no resistance as the man expertly tie-wrapped her hands, removed the rucksack and manhandled her into the open boot of a car. The boot lid closing felt like a hammer falling on a verdict of failure and she was plunged into darkness. All she could feel was the utter despair of letting Carlos down.
Chapter 62
Yacht Drive came off a roundabout on the dual carriageway and threaded through the mangroves towards the North Sound. A turn to the right wound around to the yacht club marina, a boat yard and a couple of restaurants on one spit of land. Straight ahead led to another spit with a warren of small neighbourhoods sporting high-dollar homes on the water. AJ drove her van straight and followed the narrow road around past smaller streets leading off either side into enclaves of huge homes on the inner waterways behind the sound. She pulled over on the right and parked at an opening in the mangroves that opened into a piece of land that had been cleared but not built on yet. From there she walked in the cover of occasional shrubs and small trees towards the end of the land which looked directly across at the yacht club.
She didn’t feel an urgency to hide her presence; she was confident no one had followed her, but everything felt cloak and dagger at the moment so unconsciously she was staying near cover. As she approached the water’s edge she picked out the Rum Runner in its slip about a hundred yards across the bay; nothing looked out of place. Then she noticed a man walking away along the jetty towards the gate to the car park. He wore slacks and a white shirt and, as she looked more closely, he appeared to be dripping wet, carrying his shoes in his hand.
“AJ!” an accented voice whispered urgently from nearby. Surprised, AJ swung around and tried to identify the source but couldn’t see anyone.
“AJ! Over here, behind the bushes!” A hand waved from behind some scrub.
“Carlos?” she asked nervously before approaching any closer. Carlos leaned out so she could see him. He looked worried and he too was clothed and soaking wet.
“My God, what happened? Why are you over here?” She rushed over to him and ducked behind the bushes next to him.
“Did they see you?” he asked urgently.
“I don’t think so, I saw a man leaving the jetty though, looked like he had been in the water too. Where’s Sydney?” They both peered around their cover to watch the marina.
“I diverted the Russian while Sydney ran – she has the hard drive. She shoved him in the water and I took off swimming over here. He tried coming after me for a bit but gave up at the end of the jetty. By the time I climbed out here he was on the back of the boat. Looked like he went through the boat and searched it. He was just leaving when you showed up.” Carlos wiped away the water that was running down his face from his wet hair.
Across at the marina the Russian made it through the open gate as a car pulled up and stopped. “That’s the same car that followed me earlier this afternoon, that must be the Gurov guy driving.” AJ blurted.
“So where’s Sydney?” Carlos muttered in a worried tone.
The wet Russian got into the hire car and the car took off immediately.
AJ jumped up, “Run, quick!”
Carlos followed, puzzled. “Where are we going? We have to find Sydney!”
AJ yelled back over her shoulder in full sprint to her van, “Where do you think they’re heading right now?!”
“Oh shit, of course!” Carlos put his head down and tried to catch AJ, surprised at how fast she ran.
They reached the van and AJ fumbled the key into the ignition and fired it up. Slamming the transmission into
gear she took off just as Carlos closed the passenger door. Flooring the throttle pedal she shot down the road and flung the big van around a couple of turns before slamming on the brakes, much to Carlos’s surprise. He pitched forward, stopping himself with a hand on the dashboard.
“Hang on!” AJ yelled.
“I figured that out,” he quipped, grabbing for his seatbelt as she turned hard right through a gap in the mangroves onto a tiny dirt path. With shrubs scraping down both sides of the fifteen-passenger van AJ popped over a kerb and landed on an asphalt street with large houses fronting another part of the bay beyond. Cutting to the left she ran parallel to Yacht Drive, hidden by the bushes and trees separating them. She pulled the van to a stop, powered down the windows and shut off the ignition. They both sat still and listened carefully. Except for the sound of their heavy breathing, from the run and the sudden excitement, and a few birds twittering in the shrubs, it was silent. Finally, the low drone of a car’s engine rose as it approached along Yacht Drive and faded as it kept going past them in the direction they’d come from.
Mikhail cruised slowly, glancing from the map on his phone to the road and surrounding terrain. Anatoly, pissed off and bedraggled, scoured every piece of open terrain, keen to exact revenge on the kid that had helped sucker him into the water, for which Mikhail had rewarded him with a good arse-chewing. The girl had thumped on the inside of the boot a few times but stopped when Mikhail growled at her to shut up, threatening to wrap her head to toe in duct tape. Mikhail had been searching boats on one of the other jetties when he heard the commotion and saw Sydney run; all he had to do was lie in wait and she literally ran into him. Now, on the back seat sat the rucksack containing the hard drive, fifty percent of what they’d been sent to retrieve. The other half of their mission was somewhere on this spit of land, hiding. Take care of that problem and they were heading home.
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