To her right in the sand and scattered coral heads appeared some dark shapes on the sea floor. As she closed in, the shapes could be identified as coral and growth-encrusted metal sections of the landmark she’d been looking for. The wreck of the Balboa had been outside the harbour since the storm in 1932 that had smashed her against the sea wall of the docks and sent the 375-foot freighter to the bottom in forty feet of water. Blown apart to clear the obstruction when salvage was deemed too expensive, she remained a scattering of twisted metal carnage and pieces of hull. Diving the wreck was by permit only and strictly prohibited when cruise ships were moored outside the harbour. With three of the expansive floating hotels in port today AJ was confident she’d be alone at the wreck.
Cutting to deeper water she followed the wreckage west, scattering the shoals of chub and snapper that frequented the wreck. Under a large overhanging section of metal lay a grey hulk trying to blend with the sand and the shadows. The seven-foot nurse shark had no interest in the noisy bubble-maker passing by and remained still except for its willowy gills pumping water through its own, natural breathing system. The larger pieces of wreckage thinned as she met forty feet of depth, leaving more sand flats and smaller remains of the ship ahead. AJ paused and searched the water to the south and west for signs of a hull but was still too far away. Working from her original compass heading she continued across the front of the harbour, scanning ahead for a glimpse of the trawler. As she methodically finned her way forward, occasionally checking her compass to make sure she was on course, AJ mulled over her plan, or more appropriately, her lack of plan for when she found the Cuban boat.
Chapter 69
A loud rap on the side of the van made Carlos jump and he instinctively slid down lower on the floor.
“Carlos?” came Reg’s gruff voice.
Carlos scrambled up and peeked out the window; sure enough it was Reg staring back at him with a smile. Reg opened the passenger door and sat down, turning to face Carlos who lifted himself up to sit on the bench seat.
“AJ still not back? Where’d she go?” Reg enquired, looking around.
Carlos had been rehearsing his answer while he was waiting. “She said she had to see someone and would be half an hour or so.”
Reg looked puzzled. “She say who?”
Carlos had hoped his first answer would be enough but apparently not so he kept it simple, “No.”
Reg looked around again like he was trying to figure out where she may have gone. “Odd place to park… Don’t know who she came to see here…”
It wasn’t phrased as a question so Carlos took the opportunity not to answer and change the subject. “Have you heard from the policeman? Does he have Gurov? Did he still have Sydney?”
“I haven’t heard back from him yet.” Reg still looked confused. “So she left her phone here and said she’d be back?”
Carlos couldn’t decide if he was doing a crappy job lying or if Reg was naturally inquisitive, but he was clearly suspicious. “She said to watch for you to call as she might not be able to talk if she was around other people.”
Reg shrugged. “Alright, well we can’t wait for her, let’s get over to Whittaker and hopefully he’s got Sydney by the time we get there.”
Carlos felt pretty good he’d finally satisfied Reg’s curiosity but he certainly didn’t want to leave the van. What if AJ made it back with Sydney and he was now gone? Besides that, if he went to the police station he was probably not getting to leave.
“I can’t go to the police, Reg; if they arrest me I can’t do anything. I’d rather stay here and wait for AJ. Can’t you call me when he has Sydney?”
“Don’t you want to see her yourself,” Reg countered, suspicious again.
“Of course I do but what’s to stop them deporting me and all of this will be for nothing?” He spun an extra air of desperation into the statement.
Reg shook his head. “He ain’t gonna’ arrest or deport you. Whittaker’s a good bloke, he’ll help us. He’s arresting Gurov, not you.”
Reg stepped out of the van and waved for Carlos to follow, standing outside the open door. “I’ll text AJ and tell her where we went, she’ll see it on her phone when she gets back.”
He closed the door and walked towards his van that he’d pulled in close by.
Carlos sat in a quandary, unsure what he could do. He felt he could trust Reg – the man had been incredibly kind and accommodating so far – but he was genuinely concerned that once he set foot in a police station he wouldn’t be allowed to leave. He tried to convince himself this wasn’t Cuba and they did things differently here but he had stolen a plane and landed it illegally on the island. Well, near the island. Either way he’d broken laws on Cayman as well as Cuba; he couldn’t imagine they’d let him walk away and go about his day. Reg had reached his own van and was looking at Carlos, expecting him to follow. What choice do I have?, he thought, I’m not going to run from this man too. He slid open the side door and exited the van, once again putting his fate in the hands of another person.
Chapter 70
Constable Spalding finished his pat-down on Gurov and nodded he was complete to Whittaker, who had moved to the back of the car. Mikhail stood with his hands still held up, a mobile phone in one hand and his wallet in the other. His blank stare held a hint of a smile. Whittaker released the lock to the boot and took a small step backwards, tensing in anticipation. The boot lid swung open to reveal an empty space and Whittaker breathed again, relieved but equally disappointed. He looked over at the other two constables and directed one to search the interior of the car and one the boot. He walked back over to Gurov, who’d finally dropped his hands and returned his mobile and wallet to his pockets.
Roy considered how to approach the Russian now; he’d expected to find a young Caymanian girl in the boot based on Reg’s call but of course it didn’t make sense for Gurov to drive into the police station with her. That would certainly be a ballsy move. His accomplice was also missing so a stop had been made on the way here.
“You look surprised, Detective, what were you expecting to find in my car?” Mikhail prodded before Roy had formed his next line of questions.
Roy ignored the taunt. “Where is your associate, Mr. Gurov?”
Mikhail shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “On our boat. I’m alone on the island, Detective.”
Roy shook his head despondently. “Come along now, Mr. Gurov, surely we’re beyond this aren’t we? Your hotel room contained the personal items of two men. You were seen earlier today with another gentleman in this car. So, where is your associate now?”
Mikhail lost all trace of a grin and spoke aggressively, “We have diplomatic status detective and your questions and accusations are becoming offensive. We are prepared to leave so I suggest you allow me to return to our boat and be on our way.”
Roy’s tone matched Mikhail’s toe to toe, “You don’t have diplomatic anything Gurov, as you showed up unannounced. As far as I’m concerned you’re a tourist bringing a firearm to the island which puts you in hot water. You’re not going anywhere except our jail cell.” Roy inched closer to the Russian and continued, “So how about you help yourself out and start explaining where your associate is and while you’re at it where Sydney Bodden, who you had stuffed in the boot of your car half an hour ago, might be!”
Mikhail considered his response. “These are preposterous allegations, Detective, I assure you the Russian Federation does not look kindly on such threatening behaviour.”
Mikhail trailed off as a van pulled into the yard and parked. Reg stepped out. The constable searching the interior of Gurov’s car ducked out and stepped towards Reg with his hand up.
Whittaker called over to him, “It’s okay, I asked him to come.” Roy scanned the van but the sun was glaring off the windscreen and he couldn’t see inside. “Have someone with you Reg?”
Reg turned back towards his van and beckoned with his hand. Carlos cautiously stepped out from the passenger side a
nd nervously looked across the yard at Gurov. The Russian glared at him and started towards him but Spalding immediately grabbed his shoulder and the detective reached for his gun inside his jacket, ready to draw at any second. Mikhail stopped but never took his eyes from Carlos, his cold-steel stare locked on the terrified young man.
“Sir!” Came a voice from behind Gurov’s car. Whittaker frowned at the constable. What could possibly warrant an interruption at this moment?
“Sir, you should see this,” the constable urged.
Whittaker walked over as the constable pointed in the boot. Hanging from the curved hinge mechanism of the boot lid was a woman’s watch. Reg and Carlos trotted over and Carlos’s eyes got wider. “Sydney’s watch!” He stared back at the Russian with equal venom and Reg grabbed him before he could bolt towards the man. “What have you done with her?!” Carlos screamed across the yard.
“Is that her watch?” Whittaker quizzed, “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely sure! Look at the inscription on the back!” Carlos wriggled in Reg’s grip but the big man held him firm.
The constable reached in with a gloved hand and rotated the watch to see the back. He read off the inscription, “Todo mi amor, Carlos.”
Whittaker whipped around and pointed at Gurov. “Put him in cuffs, Spalding. And Gurov, you’d better tell me right now where the girl is.”
Before Spalding could restrain Gurov he pulled his mobile phone from his pocket and hit the send button. The phone slipped from his grasp as Spalding got hold of his arm and Mikhail didn’t resist as the phone clattered to the ground. Whittaker stepped over and picked it up but the text message he sent was in Russian and he couldn’t understand it. Spalding had his hands cuffed behind his back and Whittaker poked the Russian in the chest with the phone. “Where is she, Gurov? A firearm offence and kidnapping are one thing but if that girl’s harmed, believe me you’re never leaving the jail on this island!”
Mikhail gave Roy his blank, disdainful look and said nothing.
“They took her to the boat! The other Russian took her on their skiff. AJ is heading there now!” Carlos blurted.
Roy turned to the young man in disbelief, “Seriously?”
Carlos reiterated, “I saw them in the skiff myself.”
Roy shook his head. “That part I’d figured when she wasn’t in the boot.” He turned his attention to Reg. “But why on God’s green earth is AJ going to the trawler?!”
Reg shrugged. “Beats me, he told me she’d stepped away!”
“We figured they’d run if they saw a boat approaching and once they left you wouldn’t be able to stop them,” Carlos admitted sheepishly.
Roy was speechless for a moment before gathering his wits and forming a plan. “I don’t read Russian but I’m pretty sure this text says ‘leave now’ so that hasn’t worked out very well, has it?” Without waiting for a response he barked orders, waving a hand at Gurov. “Take him inside and lock him up. He pointed at the constable who’d found the watch. “Secure this vehicle and tell CSI to go through it from top to bottom. Detective,” he pointed to the armed man, “with me. Reg, drive us to the harbour. I’ll call the marine unit on the way.”
Carlos looked at the detective quizzically as Reg released his grip.
“You’re coming with me, I’m not letting you out of my sight.” He put his hand on Carlos’s shoulder, directing him towards the van. “I can’t wait to hear how you crash a plane off the north wall in the middle of a storm and survive.”
Carlos looked at Roy earnestly. “No, no, I didn’t crash the plane, Detective, I landed it.”
Chapter 71
Anatoly read the text on his phone and jumped up from the table in the galley. Pavlo looked over his laptop at him expectantly.
“We’re leaving,” Anatoly announced in Russian. “Secure your equipment, be ready to take only what’s absolutely necessary. We’re switching to Plan B.”
Pavlo looked confused. “Going where? What’s Plan B?”
Anatoly paused on his way out the room. “Offshore. Plan B means you have whatever you need to take off the boat ready, we may have to leave the boat when we get out there.”
As Anatoly left, his compatriot looked none the wiser but slowly closed his laptop lid and looked around, assessing what he needed to pack up.
Anatoly flew up the stairs to the wheelhouse and made Silvio, who was resting his eyes, jump. “I told you to be ready,” Anatoly barked in poor Spanish. “We’re leaving, quickly, so pull the anchor and fire up this piece of shit.”
“I need to warm the engine for a while and then pull the anchor,” Silvio said calmly.
“What?” Anatoly asked, his faced contorted in annoyance and only partially understanding what he’d said.
Silvio repeated patiently, “The engine, I must warm it up for a while and then we can pull the anchor.”
“Listen you idiot,” Anatoly yelled back in pidgin Spanish, “Start the damn engine and get us out of here right now, no warming, no screwing around, I told you earlier to be ready, let’s go.”
Silvio shrugged as Julio came in the wheelhouse having heard the commotion.
“What’s up?” Julio enquired.
“Our friend wants me to blow up the engine trying to leave the harbour so apparently this is what we will do,” Silvio said nonchalantly and turned the big diesel over waiting for it to splutter into life. “Head to the bow and watch the anchor for me, Julio.”
The whole boat shuddered as the old motor coughed into life.
Anatoly swore in Russian and stomped out behind Julio, leaving Silvio with a wry grin. He made sure the motor had settled down at idle and walked to the back of the wheelhouse. The other two had gone down the interior stairwell which Silvio stepped around to open the rear door of the wheelhouse, overlooking the rear deck. The davit was swung over the side with lines running down out of view. The skiff was on the other end of those lines. He decided it would be fine to drag it a few feet while they hauled the anchor up then he’d have Julio winch it up as he turned the boat to leave.
Making it back to the console, he could see Julio upfront give him a thumbs-up and point in the forward direction. Silvio engaged forward drive with a loud clunk from below decks and the big boat very slowly began to move. Julio pulled back on a lever which ran the winch for the anchor. The old electric motor groaned as the lodged anchor initially tried to pull the boat down to the bottom of the ocean. Julio held his hand up as the boat came over the top of the anchor and Silvio selected reverse with more grinding and clunking. The electric winch slowed and groaned until just as it sounded like it would stop turning all together it managed to wrench the anchor free from the sand and whirred back up to its normal lethargic pace.
Chapter 72
The drone of a diesel motor starting reached AJ at the same moment she saw the dark shadow of the hull of the trawler. She finned harder, now confident in the direction she needed to head. Shallowing to thirty feet, she kicked until making it under the large mass from where she could see the anchor line extending to the sea floor from the starboard side of the bow. The motor note changed and the propeller spun into life adding a higher pitched buzz to the deep tone of the diesel. Damn it, she thought, they’re leaving! I’m too late by a few minutes! Rotating upside down she scanned the barnacle-ridden hull as it slowly edged forward above her. She watched the line to the anchor slacken as the trawler released the strain and another motor sound started from the boat, which she guessed was the anchor winch.
AJ desperately searched for any option to get herself aboard that didn’t involve going near the stern and the prop violently crushing water through its blades. To the starboard side was another outline alongside. The skiff! She ascended as fast as she dare without risking the bends as the trawler slowed its forward motion with more changes in engine note and the prop wound down to a stop, before reversing and churning the other way. The trawler came to a stop just as AJ reached the skiff and the prop went to neutral with anothe
r clunk.
She slowly peeked her head above the surface and prayed no one was looking over the side. She came up behind the skiff so she could tuck in by the outboard, figuring if anyone was looking they’d be focused on the anchor that was now winding up through mid-water. She could just see a head glancing over the side towards the bow but the man was indeed watching the anchor. AJ swiftly pulled herself up the side of the skiff to roll inside but as soon as the bulk of her air tank came out of the water the mass dragged her back down. Shit! She hadn’t considered manoeuvring above the surface with a Scuba rig weighing close to fifty pounds when wet. She inflated her BCD so it would float, unbuckled the waistband and slipped it off her back. The BCD and tank bobbed in the water and the tank slapped against the skiff with a loud clunk. She quickly pulled it away and checked the man up front but he was busy with the anchor that was now clearing the water. She was running out of time. Pulling herself up again she easily hauled herself into the skiff and turned around to grab her BCD. The rocking of the skiff as she’d rolled in caused a small wave which had pushed the rig away and she lurched as far she could reach to just catch a shoulder strap.
Clonk. She looked to the front to see the anchor was set against the hull. She guessed next job would be to bring the skiff aboard. She dragged her BCD and tank up into the skiff and looked up at the side of the trawler. A wooden ladder hung from the side rail of the boat’s hull. She slipped her fins off and scrambled up a couple of steps until she could just see over the top. Halfway to her from the bow was the man she’d seen; he was now heading back towards the stern. She scrambled back down and looked about her. Scrunched up in the front of the skiff was on old canvas cover. Shoving her rig under one of the two seats that ran across the skiff she grabbed the cover and dragged it over herself just as she heard the scraping of the ladder being pulled aboard. She held her breath and hoped she’d managed to cover herself completely. Silence. Then she heard some movement and a man’s voice barely audible shouting something in Spanish. The only word she understood was ‘Julio’. The Cuban to be avoided, according to Carlos. The man she now presumed to be Julio shouted something back that she didn’t understand at all, but could only hope didn’t involve her. She had to let the air from her lungs and take another gasp, which sounded infinitely louder than she desired, echoing around under the cover. Salt water dripped from her body and the steamy humidity under the canvas was stifling. Finally, with a jerk the skiff started rising out of the water and the davit winch whined as it steadily lifted it clear of the rail. AJ was coming aboard the trawler whether she wanted to or not.
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