Gardens of the Queen

by Nicholas Harvey

  Chapter 73

  From Elgin Avenue Reg made a left on Sheddon Road and shot down the narrow street to the stop sign at Harbour Drive with the little island museum on their left. Across the road in front of them the harbour opened up into the Caribbean Sea and three cruise ships sat idle waiting to start their overnight voyage to their next destination. To the right was the small commercial dock out front of which the Cuban trawler had been moored. It was no longer moored and had turned and appeared to be under steam, heading out to sea by the small wake its slow progress stirred up.

  Carlos pointed at the boat. “They’re leaving! We’re too late, we must stop them!”

  Roy already had his phone to his ear. “This is Detective Whittaker, put me through to the Marine Unit.” His voice was calm but urgent.

  After a pause waiting on the transfer, “This is Whittaker. I need a marine unit to the harbour right away, we have a trawler under the Cuban flag we need stopped from leaving immediately.”

  The surprised dispatcher stumbled out her response, “Sir, I’m afraid everything we have on west side is tending to an incident.”

  A frown crossed his face as he listened. “All the boats are being used?”

  “Yes sir they are, called out thirty minutes ago.”

  Roy held his hand over the microphone of his mobile and looked at Reg. “Can we take one of your boats?”

  Reg nodded. “Sure, but we’ll have to get to West Bay dock and I don’t know if we can catch them from there.”

  Reg turned right and accelerated along Harbour Drive as Roy replied with his hand still covering his phone, “I don’t want the marine unit to have to stop here to pick us up; they can beat us to the Cuban boat, we’ll catch up.”

  Reg sped through George Town, glancing at AJ’s van still sitting next to the dive shop by Casanova’s while Roy barked a few more orders over his phone at the police marine unit dispatcher. He hung up and drummed his fingers on his knee. “The two marine units on West Side are down past Jackson Point at Sand Cay – someone ran their yacht up on the Cay with the tide going out. Our other boats are still in North Sound.” He turned and looked at Carlos with a slight grin. “Guess I can bring them back around now we’ve found our downed pilot.”

  Carlos looked sheepish. “Sorry sir.”

  Roy chuckled. “Anyway, one of the units will leave Sand Cay and head to intercept; they have some ground to cover but that old trawler can’t make much speed, we’ll get them.”

  Carlos leaned forward from the back. “And when they catch the trawler how will they stop it?” he asked innocently.

  Reg swung around a slow car, identified as a tourist by the white licence plate, then looked at Roy curiously. “I was wondering that too.”

  Roy shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I’m not completely sure to be honest, we can point some guns at them but these Russians don’t strike me as men that are particularly bothered by that.”

  The three fell silent as Reg continued to weave around traffic heading north on West Bay Road.

  Chapter 74

  AJ lay perfectly still well after the skiff had been lowered to the deck and she had heard footsteps on the decking fade away. She wanted to be certain the coast was clear but also her vague plan of ‘get Sydney, leave boat, swim back to shore’ was now out the window as the trawler chugged further away from the island. Under the sweltering hot canvas she could tell they were moving and there was no doubt where they’d head initially; the shortest route to twelve miles offshore into international waters. Deciding it was better to face the problem nearer, if not close to land, she took a few calming breaths and eased the cover back. The sun was fading in the sky but obscured by the wheelhouse forward of her, which confirmed they were heading due west. AJ blinked a few times to clear her vision after the dim light beneath the canvas. With no one in sight she took a moment to study the layout and orientate herself from Carlos’s description. She was on the stern deck and ten feet ahead was a two-storey structure with steel steps to a door at the second level and another door underneath the steps on the main deck level. From Carlos’s briefing the deck door led to the galley, dining area and the stairs down to the cabins.

  The skiff was hanging from the davit but resting on the deck so she stepped out and pulled the canvas back over her rig and fins to hide them in case anyone wandered by. Her heart was pounding in her chest. What on earth did she think she was doing playing Navy SEAL trying to singlehandedly rescue a kidnapped girl she could still only assume was on board? Against trained Russian agents. She felt woefully ill-equipped to tackle any of this. But what if Sydney was being held on board? She couldn’t do nothing. In fact, as she had effectively now put herself captive on the trawler, the only option was to escape the boat undetected. Might as well take Sydney with her. If Sydney was even here and it wasn’t canvas flapping in the breeze they’d seen. She’d feel pretty dumb getting caught by the Russians trying to rescue someone that wasn’t even on the boat. She pushed that ironic and embarrassing thought aside.

  She stepped carefully across the metal deck towards the lower door. The trawler was old and showed the rough finish of years of paint slapped over layers of earlier paint with grime and dirt built up in nooks and crannies. The door was a heavy steel marine door with rounded corners and a flange that overlapped the opening to keep the weather out. The door had a small window and the cabin had a window either side of the opening but they were too dirty to see through. She stayed low in case anyone could see out. AJ noticed her hand was shaking as she reached for the handle, her movements slow and heavy as her nerves tightened her muscles and made her feel stiff and clumsy. As her hand touched the handle the door above her banged open and someone shouting in Spanish started down the metal stairs with a clanging ring from each step. Before she knew it she’d opened the door and slid through the opening, bringing it to a close behind her as softly as she could manage. She froze, half expecting the man outside, who had sounded like the Julio guy, to burst through having seen or heard her. When no one came she realised she had her back to whatever lay inside the room and slowly turned. Her heart stopped. Through a doorway ahead was what appeared to be the dining area and standing by the table was a man placing electrical equipment into a large case. His back was to her and he appeared not to hear or didn’t care someone had come through the outside door. The big diesel engine droned on, shuddering through the whole boat and the hull thudded against the water yet her breaths and heartbeats felt like they drowned out all other sounds. Her mouth was dry. She forced herself to look away and in the dimly lit hall she saw to her left the stairs up to the wheelhouse and to her right the stairs down. Her bare feet felt the harsh grit of the non slip texture on the steel floors as she made for the stairs taking her down below deck, deeper into the boat. The steps went down half a level then turned ninety degrees to the left and continued to the lower deck where a hallway stretched out thirty feet before her, lit by a series of small portholes in the hull. On the left of the passageway were a series of doors that she assumed were the berths.

  From above she heard a man’s voice urgently barking in Russian and another replying, “Da, da.”

  She froze at the base of the stairs listening for footsteps. When none came she stepped forward and peeked into the first door that was cracked ajar. The smell gave it away before she saw it was the head. The remaining five doors were all closed but she noticed the farthest one had keys hanging from the lock in the handle. That has to be it, she thought. Why lock a cabin door from the outside with the key left in it unless you’re keeping someone from leaving? She glanced out the first porthole as she passed by and noted they were well clear of the island and by the swell picking up a little they must be beyond the drop-off and in deeper water. Arriving in front of the last cabin she paused and considered knocking to alert Sydney she was there. The way Sydney had fought the Russian from the boot of the car she wouldn’t be surprised if she attacked whoever entered. But what if it wasn’t Sydney inside? AJ
settled on stealth and, after confirming the door was indeed locked by trying the handle gently, she turned the key and this time the handle rotated down and she eased it open.

  The cabin was lit by a single porthole and laid on a cot against the wall was Sydney, her hands and feet bound by large plastic tie-wraps and tape across her mouth. Her eyes were wide and fierce but instantly gave way to relief as AJ stepped inside the room and closed the door.

  Chapter 75

  Reg swung the van into the little car park by his dock and the three men hurriedly unloaded. Young Carlos led them at full run down the pier, where Pearl was just pulling up in one of their Newtons. Reg had called her on the way, sending her rushing over to paddle a kayak out to the mooring and retrieve a boat ready for them when they arrived. Without even tying up they leapt aboard and Pearl reversed straight out, swung around and laid the throttle back, ignoring the usual no-wake courtesy around the dock area. They all scampered up the ladder to join her on the fly bridge and Roy headed straight for the marine radio. Selecting the police channel he clicked the handset open. “Marine Unit in pursuit, this is Detective Whittaker, how’s your progress? Over.”

  Reg pulled up GPS on their navigation screen while they waited for the response.

  Finally the radio crackled, “Detective Whittaker, this is Marine Unit Three in pursuit, making good time, anticipate intercept in ten to fifteen minutes, over.”

  “Unit Three, this is Whittaker, understood, keep me posted, over.” Roy hung up the handset and looked over at Reg, who was figuring a heading to meet the trawler offshore.

  Reg pointed to the GPS map which he had zoomed out to show the western portion of the island and the open water. “Taking a best guess here on heading but I’d rather be out in front than behind them; we can do more coming at them that way than chasing them.”

  Roy nodded in agreement and they all hung on as they cleared the shallower water, meeting the light chop beyond the wall. Below them the sea floor dropped from around eighty feet to over six hundred in a matter of moments and kept getting deeper from there.

  Once the boat settled on plane Roy turned to Carlos. “Before we get out there how about you give me the whole story, young man? Perhaps there’s something you have to say that’ll persuade me from arresting your friend Reg here for obstructing justice?” Roy threw a look at Reg, who frowned at his friend.

  Carlos shook his head. “Please, sir, Mr. Moore didn’t tell you before because I insisted he didn’t. I can explain everything to you in a moment.” He leaned over to Reg. “I am still worried what we can do to stop them Reg.”

  Reg shared his concern. “Nothing I’m afraid, but maybe we can help redirect them and slow them down so Roy’s guys can come up with something.”

  “We just have to keep them inside the twelve-mile mark, outside that things get more complicated,” Roy reminded them, “And right now we’re on track to do that.”

  “But how do we do this, they have a much bigger boat?” Carlos persisted, his anxiety level clearly not receding.

  “Well,” Reg paused thoughtfully. “We play chicken, I guess, see who flinches.”

  Pearl looked at Reg. “You’ll take the helm for that part, dear.”

  Chapter 76

  Julio plodded back up the steps to the wheelhouse, annoyed; Silvio was getting as bossy as the Russians. He’d folded the canvas and stowed it so it didn’t fly away out the back of the boat as Silvio had nagged him to do. He opened the door and contemplated going down to the galley to avoid being given more stupid jobs to do but the Russians were down there and they were in a fouler mood. The whole thing seemed like a complete shambles to Julio and he couldn’t wait to get home. He ambled forward to the wheelhouse and gazed out the window at the vast blue ocean ahead: certainly more pleasant waters than their outbound trip. Standing next to Silvio, he rested is hand on the console and leaned against the second chair. Something felt different about the boat. He touched the console top and then the window itself.

  “The main bearings,” Silvio mumbled dejectedly. “I told that arsehole we’d kill the engine taking off like that, but he didn’t want to hear it.”

  Julio nodded. “She gonna make it?”

  Silvio looked at him glumly. “It’s got steadily worse and Anatoly won’t let me slow up, so no, I doubt it’ll make Cuba but it seems all he cares about is making international waters; maybe it’ll stay together until then.”

  Julio wanted to ask about what happens when they’re stuck offshore but decided he wouldn’t poke the bear and make things worse for himself. Then he remembered the canvas cover.

  “Hey, can I have the scuba gear you brought back with the girl?”

  Silvio looked at him, puzzled. “What are you talking about?”

  “The scuba gear in the skiff. I figured you brought it back when you picked Carlos’s girlfriend up.” Now Julio was confused.

  “We didn’t bring any gear back, just the girl. You sure the Russians didn’t put something in there?” Silvio tried to reason.

  “I haven’t seen any scuba tanks on board, have you?” Julio said and thought more about it. “We took all the gear we have off the boat last time into Jucaro; besides, this stuff is nice, not like the old crap we have.”

  Silvio shook his head. “Take the wheel and stay straight on this heading, let me go look.”

  Julio stepped over and took the wheel as Silvio disappeared out the back door and loudly clanged down the steps outside before the door swung closed. Julio looked over the gauges. The engine was hot and the rpm needle was fluttering from the motor’s vibration. He really hoped it didn’t come apart while he was at the helm, he’d catch all kinds of shit from everyone.

  Silvio stared at the scuba rig in the skiff. Julio was right, this was much nicer stuff than he’d seen. He ought to go ask Anatoly if it had anything to do with them, but he’d had enough of that prick today and none of it appeared to be Russian made or military style. He felt the vibration from the straining engine through the decking and knew the propeller shaft bearings must be taking a beating. He looked up and scanned off the stern while he considered what to do. He could still see the island and easily picked out the three hulking cruise ships about six miles behind them. Slightly south he could see a small boat kicking up a good wake heading out in a similar direction to them. Pretty late for a fishing trip, he pondered, but the scuba gear was nagging on his mind and he looked back down at the wet gear. Wet gear? Gathering up the BCD he whipped around and strode back towards the main deck door.

  Chapter 77

  After getting the tape from Sydney’s mouth and helping her sit upright, AJ whispered a quick synopsis of how she’d ended up on the trawler while it headed what appeared to be straight out to sea. While she explained, she searched for something sharp enough to cut the tie-wraps but, needless to say, they hadn’t been stupid enough to leave blades or cutters around. For once she wished she was one of the macho divers with a machete-like knife strapped to her leg.

  “I’ll have to find something in another cabin,” she whispered. “Have you heard anybody down here recently? I don’t want to walk in on a sleeping Russian.”

  Sydney shook her head. “No, I’ve heard them on the next deck but no one down here since they locked me in.”

  AJ winced, looking at the knotty red shiner swollen up on the side of Sydney’s face. “At least the guy that did that to you isn’t on board, pretty sure he stayed on the island. I’ll be right back with something to cut those ties.”

  She eased the door open and checked the hall. The keys jangled in the lock and she gritted her teeth and held still. The diesel engine noise drowned out most sound but she couldn’t help being over cautious. At least her nerves had calmed a little since she’d found Sydney; if nothing else it meant she hadn’t come aboard for nothing. She kept noticing the engine didn’t sound too healthy and the old tub shook a lot but for all she knew that’s how it had been for years. She slipped out the room, closing the door behind her and mo
ved down the hall to the next cabin. The door was unlocked and she held her breath while she carefully looked inside. There was nothing in the cabin except a small travel duffel on the floor next to the bed. Very neat, very military. She closed the door behind her and knelt by the bag to go through it. Carefully removing the meticulously folded garments on top, she ran her hands around the inside, hunting for a useful object. She felt something that seemed the size of a passport, a paperback book and then a smaller bag that she grabbed and pulled out. Unzipping the top she discovered a wash kit and further rummaging produced a pair of nail clippers. She’d been hoping for a Swiss Army knife but clippers would do in a pinch, and a pinch she was certainly in.

  Sydney’s pensive look dissolved to a smile when AJ re-entered the cabin and held up the clippers with a grin. It took some snipping and working but she was able to cut the plastic tie-wraps and Sydney sat rubbing her wrists and ankles for a few moments, massaging the angry red marks where the ties had been.