"Okay." Lucas took out his notebook and opened it, putting it on the table beside his plate. "Hyacinth and ... "
"Hyacinth and Amaryllis Betancourt. Sisters. They were found by a bus driver this morning. They must have been waiting for the bus; they would have been on their way to work. The stop was near their house. They've worked at the prison about as long as I have. They were the ones that were questioning Berger when we had her. They turned her over to Barron's men, too."
"Well, there's the connection, I guess."
"What?" Jordan asked. "What connection?"
"To Berger. And Barron, for that matter," Lucas said. "Now, about their injuries ... "
"Both beaten unconscious, probably with a baton that was taken from one of them. They each had batons, but one was missing. The woman who called from the hospital said somebody meant to cause them a lot of pain. Knees and elbows shattered, and several broken ribs. Only one blow to the head each, but they think Amaryllis may have a fractured skull."
"Jesus!" Lucas said. "That's pretty serious."
"Yeah. She said they'd probably never walk again without crutches."
"You got an address for them?"
"Yeah. In their files. I'll call you tomorrow."
"They live alone?"
"Yeah. Just the two of them. Parents are dead, no close relatives."
"How about the bus driver?"
"What about him?"
"You have his name?"
"No. But the woman who called said he knew Hyacinth and Amaryllis — regular riders. She might have his ... "
"I'll call her in the morning, then. I'll need to track down the driver and talk with their neighbors. See if anybody noticed anything, or if they were mixed up in something that could have led to the assault."
"But the Cuban woman — "
"It's basic police work, Mary. I have to eliminate as many possibilities as I can."
"Okay. You need anything else before I go?"
"No. Watch out for the Cuban woman, though."
"You think ... "
Lucas shrugged.
"Good evening, then," Jordan said, as she stood.
"Good evening." Lucas watched her walk outside and waved to the waitress for the check.
****
"Did you learn anything from Mitchum's wife?" Liz asked, as Marie joined her in Kayak Spirit's cockpit.
"Nothing about him," Marie said, "but the detective constable has been to see her twice, so something's going on there. And she said another woman had been asking questions, too."
"Another woman? What kind of questions?" Liz asked.
"About Mitchum. She described the woman as Hispanic; she spoke good English, but with an accent. 'Like the Cuban doctors,' she said. Her description matched the woman I saw breaking into the detective's car."
"Interesting," Liz said. "I wonder who she could be."
"I don't know, but Mitchum's wife is puzzled. The detective came back the second time to ask her if Mitchum had a girlfriend, or if she had a boyfriend. She thinks that he suspects she was having a fling with this Herbert Watson."
"The murder victim?" Liz asked.
"Yes."
"And?"
"She said not. Her husband is a deacon of their church; she was sure he had not been unfaithful to her, and she said she didn't know Watson — never even heard of him."
"Do you believe her?"
Marie thought for a moment before saying, "Yes, I do. She was angry that the detective had asked her about that, even."
"If the detective's asking questions like that, he must have some doubts about Dani being Watson's killer. Otherwise, why would he want to know if Mitchum's wife was having an affair with the victim?"
"I don't know, Liz. Cops ask a lot of questions. I think we cannot make conclusions from that. He may be eliminating other suspects to reinforce his case against Dani."
"You don't think she — "
"Of course not. She would never be so sloppy."
"That's so," Liz said, nodding.
After a moment, Marie said, "Shall we go up to the restaurant? The aromas when I walked past made my stomach rumble."
"Sure, but what do you think about calling Lanjwani first?"
Marie glanced at the clock. "It has been 24 hours since you called last, so the time is right. What will you say to him now?"
"I want to keep the pressure on him. He thinks I'm in Marin, with the passports, probably. I'm thinking I'll threaten to turn one of the passports over to Lucas, unless Lanjwani has something to offer on Dani's whereabouts."
"Are you prepared to do that? Give one of the passports to the detective constable, I mean?"
"I'm thinking out loud. What's your reaction?"
"How will you explain it to Lucas?"
"I won't. I could have some kid drop it off at the police station with his name on the envelope, and a note suggesting he return it to Lanjwani."
"What do you think this will accomplish?"
"We'll see how Lanjwani responds."
"I don't like it. I understand that you feel compelled to do something, and I think the idea of turning one of the passports over to the police is a strong threat. But it will be wasted if Lanjwani has no information on Dani."
Liz chewed on her lips, first the upper and then the lower one. After a few seconds, she nodded. "I see your point. What if I just made the threat, but didn't follow through?"
"If you make the threat, how would Lanjwani know whether you followed through or not?"
"Lucas would at least show up to ask him about the passport if I followed through."
"Perhaps, perhaps not."
"Huh?" Liz frowned.
"We are only guessing about how the detective constable might react. He may be on Lanjwani's payroll. Or someone else's."
"Then what if I made the threat and didn't give Lucas the passport?"
"If Lanjwani has police connections, and we think he does, since he knows you took Vengeance to Marin, then he will know that you have made an empty threat. This will weaken your position."
"You think I shouldn't call him, then?"
"No. You gave him 24 hours from your call last night. If you fail to adhere to your timetable, you will also weaken your position."
"What do you think I should tell him, then?"
"Nothing. You should ask what he has learned about Dani and see what he says."
"But if he has nothing to offer?"
"Express your displeasure; tell him that his failure will have consequences, but don't tell him what they are."
"Isn't that an empty threat?" Liz asked.
"It would be, if we didn't follow up."
"What kind of follow-up are you thinking about, then?"
"Something more direct. You know where he is, and where the six men are, but he doesn't know you are here. He thinks you are in Martinique."
"I'm not following you."
"They are Muslims, yes?"
"Yes, but ... "
"They are afraid of women, and of pigs."
"What are you thinking?"
"The fancy grocery store at the mall; it is still open when I passed just now. They have the face of the pig there, yes?"
"Probably, but ... "
"And Lanjwani knows that you, a woman, have killed this Gorshani. His wallet, it is in the backpack?"
"Yes."
"We will send the signal that they are vulnerable, and we will insult them at the same time."
"Okay. I give up. What are you plotting?"
"If what Lanjwani says does not please you, we will visit the place where he keeps the six men and leave the pig's face with Gorshani's wallet in its mouth. We will also leave copies of the passports. This is a threat; they will see that. They will think that the men will be killed, and buried with the pig. Believe me, this will upset them."
"If we're going to break in, why not do some real damage? We could kill one of the men."
"Better to let them know that we were among them in their
safe haven while they slept."
"Okay, but the grocery store at the mall will be closing soon."
"I go now, while you call Lanjwani."
"What about dinner?" Liz asked.
"When I get back; I must go before the store at the mall closes."
Chapter 19
"You have the money?" Lanjwani asked, his voice low as he stood away from the other men, holding a throw-away cellphone close to his lips.
"Yeah. He brought it earlier today. It's in my safe. His boss wants more girls, right away."
"You have them?" Lanjwani asked, hoping for a negative response.
Theodore Barron laughed. "You have to ask? Of course I have girls; there are always plenty of girls. When can you take them?"
"I'm working on that. How many?"
"As many as you can handle; say six or eight, for this shipment?"
"That could work. I'll let you know."
"When?"
"I said, I'll let you know. I have some difficulty with ... some other items for the same shipment."
"What difficulty?"
"It is not your affair."
"It's my affair if you can't handle moving my girls in a timely manner. Perhaps I could help."
"No. Unless you can get good E.U. passports."
"Possible. But it will take time. I thought you had them."
"Gorshani was carrying them, the fool."
"I don't understand."
"The Berger woman's partner was asking questions. He was supposed to silence her, but something went wrong. He has disappeared, and she has threatened to expose us."
"And now she has the passports? Chirac?"
"Yes. She wants to trade them for Berger."
"Ah! Then no one knows where Berger is. The fools in the police think she is with Chirac in Martinique."
"Their boat is in Martinique, but there is no sign of either of them."
"You are watching the boat?"
"Yes. Chirac isn't aboard; we are looking for her at the hotels and guest houses. But she wouldn't be trying to trade for Berger if she knew where Berger was."
"Probably not," Barron said. "Unless ... "
"Unless what?"
"With women, you can never understand what they are doing. You know of Berger's family connections?"
"Family connections?"
"Her father is a powerful man; he is from Martinique."
"Perhaps that's who is hiding Chirac, then."
"He's been gone from there for years. He lives in Paris."
"Does he have people there? In Martinique?"
"Probably, but they won't be easy to find. Lucas thinks he has an agent working here — a Hispanic woman."
"Berger's father has a Hispanic woman working in our country? Doing what?"
"That's a good question. It appears that she's looking for Berger, which means — "
"That no one knows where Berger is," Lanjwani said, again. "That is not good. I need those passports; time is growing short. I have to land six men in Miami within the next week."
"Is Chirac in touch with you?"
"She called last night; I'm expecting a call from her tonight."
"But you think she's in Martinique?"
"That's what the customs and immigration paperwork says."
"And you believe it?"
"Yes. Her yacht is in Ste. Anne."
"Draw her out," Barron said. "Set up a trade."
"She's not a fool; I'll have to convince her that I have Berger."
"Berger. What does she look like?"
"White woman; young, pretty. Slightly curly short blonde hair, slim, medium height."
"I have one of those in stock," Barron said, with a chuckle. "I'll have Selwyn make a video — bad quality, black and white, maybe, in dim light. He loves doing that kind of thing. He can play with her, make her scream for Chirac to give up the passports. What do you think?"
"It might work. There's not much risk. How long will it take?"
Barron thought for a moment. "We could have a video uploaded in an hour. What is Chirac's given name?"
"Liesbet. She is Belgian."
"Okay. I'll call you back with the link to the video soon."
"Good," Lanjwani said. "I'll send Rashid for the money later this evening."
****
As Liz reached for Gorshani's cellphone to call Lanjwani, her encrypted satellite phone rang. "Hello, Phillip."
"Hi. Is Marie with you?"
"No. She's off to the grocery store." Liz explained their plan.
"Hmm," Phillip chuckled. "I like it — terrorize the terrorists. Marie think of that?"
"Yes."
"Sounds like her. Don't get caught."
"Don't worry. What's on your mind?"
"I got a call from Cedric. There seems to be a crime wave in St. Lucia."
"Any connection to us?"
"That's why he called; he thinks it must be connected. It makes no sense to him, otherwise. Have you run across a man named Theodore Barron?"
"No. Who is he?"
"He's a local mobster — owns a rough nightclub, into drugs and prostitution and who knows what else."
"I don't see a connection," Liz said, "unless ... "
"Unless what?"
"Well, we know Lanjwani's selling young girls. From what I gathered, he's smuggling them out of the country."
"Right. There could be some overlap. Anyway, three of Barron's men have been killed; throats cut, supposedly by a guy who resembles his bodyguard, but Cedric says the police think a Cuban woman's behind it all."
"That's interesting. There's a Hispanic woman that keeps popping up in odd places. Marie saw her break into the detective's car — the guy who picked Dani up. The same woman questioned the wife of the eyewitness who told the cops that he saw Dani stab Watson."
"Cedric said that Barron had some Venezuelan connections. No real reason to think the woman's Cuban. She could be from anywhere, but I guess she looks Hispanic."
"She has an accent, too," Liz added. "Mitchum's wife — "
"Mitchum?"
"The eyewitness. His wife told Marie that the woman spoke good English, but that she had an accent like the Cuban doctors at the clinics here."
"Okay. You're going to call Lanjwani tonight?"
"I was reaching for the phone when you called. Are Clarence's guys still watching Lanjwani's store?"
"Yes. There's no activity, but that seems typical. I guess if there are six jihadists hiding there, they'd keep a low profile."
"Do you think you should let the watchers know what Marie and I are planning?"
"Definitely. I'll call them as soon as we've finished. Write this number down." Phillip rattled off a telephone number. "That's the team leader, in case you two get in trouble. When are you going to move?"
"It's not definite. If Lanjwani has some information on Dani, we may hold off."
"I understand that, but I should let the team know what to expect."
"Tell them to expect a call from me in a little while. I'll let them know either way. If we go, it'll probably be at around three a.m."
"My favorite time for that sort of thing," Phillip said.
"I know; I learned from the best," Liz said, smiling. "Should I call after I speak to Lanjwani?"
"Only if your plans change; if he's got anything on Dani, I should pass it on to J._P."
"Okay, then. Thanks for the update; I'm going to call him as soon as we hang up."
"Goodnight, and good luck."
"Thanks." Liz disconnected the call and reached for Gorshani's cellphone again.
****
"Did you get what we need?" Liz asked, as Marie came below deck, grocery bag in hand.
"Yes. And did you call Lanjwani?"
"I did. I just hung up."
"How did it go?" Marie asked.
"He surprised me; he claims that his men have Dani."
"How did you respond?"
"I demanded to talk to her, and he laughed. I said that he
was bluffing, and he laughed again and said, 'You will see, infidel bitch.' Then he gave me a link to a video. I'm supposed to call him back after I watch it."
Marie put the grocery bag on the galley counter and lifted the top of the chart table, removing a laptop computer from the compartment beneath. Sitting down beside Liz, she turned on the computer and connected to the marina's Wi-Fi network. Liz held a scrap of paper with a scribbled web address above the keyboard, and Marie typed it into the browser's address bar and hit the enter key.
They waited in silence as the video loaded, and then Marie clicked on the play button. The black and white video opened with a dimly lit shot of a blonde woman, naked, tied to a heavy wooden chair, her arms pulled back and tied behind her, forcing her to sit upright, her small breasts prominent. A man with moderately dark skin, clad in silk briefs, stood with his back to the camera, hands on his hips.
"Who are you?" he asked.
The woman in the chair shook her head, drawing away from him as much as her bonds permitted. With a casual swipe of a muscular arm, he backhanded her across the face. Her head snapped back and then slumped forward, her chin resting on her chest. He reached out and grasped her hair, pulling her head erect, holding it as the camera zoomed in to record blood welling from her mouth. After a moment, he shook her head with a violent motion.
"I asked you a question," he said, in a soft tone.
"Danielle Berger," she answered, in a murmur that was barely audible.
"And where do you live?"
She moaned, and he shook her head again.
"My b-boat, Vengeance."
He released her hair and dropped his hand to her right breast, stroking it with a tender motion. "Good girl," he said, as she writhed, trying to escape his touch.
"Does anyone live with you?"
"Liesbet Chirac," she said, squirming.
"Good. You like this, the way I touch you, yes?"
When she didn't respond, he gripped the breast and squeezed it, the muscles in his forearm rippling as she shrieked. When she gasped for breath, he released his grip and began stroking her again. "You like this? Or the other?"
"Th-this, please," she said.
"Good girl. You have something to say to your friend before we start our little party, maybe?" He grasped her breast again, the threat clear.
"Liesbet!" She squealed. "Please! Give them whatever they want." She screamed again as he tightened his grip.
Bluewater Jailbird: The Tenth Novel in the Caribbean Mystery and Adventure Series (Bluewater Thrillers Book 10) Page 14