"I'll leave that up to you and Clarence," Liz said. "My job is to arrange the meeting for you."
"Hmm," Marie said. "We can no doubt extract the information from him. Whether it is in a manner that the authorities in St. Lucia will find legally acceptable, that is another question. I must talk with Clarence about this, okay?"
"Of course," Liz said.
Chapter 23
"Why are you calling me?" the man on the telephone asked.
The hair on Lanjwani's arms bristled; he swallowed hard and took a deep breath before he answered the Sheik's question, "I need information, effendi. I — "
"You came highly recommended; so far you've been nothing but a nuisance. Now you need me to hold your hand. What information?"
"About a man named Berger; he is from Martinique."
"You are a fool, Lanjwani. There are doubtless many men in Martinique named Berger. It is not an unusual name among the French. Why would I know anything about one of them?"
"He is said to be a powerful man, effendi. He is from there, but he lives in Paris now. I am told he moves in the highest circles of government, but in the shadows."
"Who told you this?"
"A man named Barron, here in St. Lucia."
"Why do you not ask him, then, if he told you about this man."
"He is dead, effendi, killed by an agent of this Berger."
There was a prolonged silence on the phone. Lanjwani began to perspire. He chewed at a hangnail. Unable to stand the suspense, he broke the silence. "Effendi?"
"What has this Berger to do with our business? You have not mentioned him before."
"His daughter has become involved. We didn't — "
"His daughter! You are calling me about some woman? A French woman?"
"Effendi, I — "
"How? In what way is she involved?"
"By accident. It is most complicated, effendi, and your time is valuable. I — "
"What is it that you wish from me then, Lanjwani?"
"The Berger woman's business partner has the passports for the six men, and she is refusing to give them to us unless we find Danielle Berger for her. I — "
"How did she get the passports?"
"She was already causing trouble for us, and one of my men was sent to kill her. Somehow, he was killed instead, and — "
"He was carrying the passports?"
"Yes, effendi, but I didn't — "
"Who is her business partner?"
"Liesbet Chirac."
"And where is she?"
"She is in Martinique."
"You have borrowed men from my organization to watch some woman. This is Chirac?"
"Yes, effendi."
"And they have not found her. I understand they are waiting for her aboard her yacht. Is that so?"
"Yes, effendi."
"And I assume that you cannot find Berger."
"That is correct."
"So you wish to capture Chirac and force her to turn over the passports."
"Yes."
"And why have you risked coming to me, rather than continuing to work with my men?"
"I just learned about Berger's father, that he is an important man and must still have contacts in Martinique; he is in the business of supplying arms and soldiers. Martinique is a place where such soldiers for hire — "
"Enough. You think Chirac may be with some of these people. Is that it?"
"Yes, effendi."
"Is there a reason to leave the men on the yacht?"
"Probably not, effendi, if they can be used — "
"I will make some inquiries. Do not call me again."
****
"Marie?"
"Oui. Jean-Luc?"
"There has been more activity at the apartment. A woman has come. She stayed a few minutes, and left."
"Let me put you on the speaker ... okay. Now, Liz can hear you better. Did someone follow this woman when she left?"
"Oui. Pierre, but he lost her."
"Pierre? But he is the best."
"Oui. He has a sore head, now."
"A sore head?"
"Oui. She went into the ladies' room at the marina."
"He was waiting in the shadows, between two of the closed shops for her to come out."
"And?"
"That is the last we know. He calls me just now; he has been unconscious. He thinks she doubled back and slipped up behind him somehow."
"How long ago did this happen?"
"Just now. He could not have been out for more than a few minutes, but she will be far away by now, for sure."
"She must have spotted him, unless she had someone watching her back," Liz said.
"The first, we think. If she had an escort, we would have seen."
"Yes, probably. She must be very good, to take Pierre like that. What did she look like?" Marie asked.
"Average size, dark hair, dark complexion. Middle Eastern, or perhaps Hispanic. In the dark, it is difficult to say."
"We've seen such a woman, once, and one matching the description questioned a witness, also. Probably, it is the same woman."
"Perhaps. We heard a scream while she was in the apartment."
"A scream? Anger?" Marie asked.
"More like pain. A shriek, cut off in the middle."
"Can one of you get close enough to see in the windows of the apartment?"
"Yes, into the front room, from the balcony. You wish for us to check it out?"
"Yes, please, and call us back."
"Okay. Au revoir." There was a pop from the phone's speaker, and he was gone.
"Who could she be?" Liz asked.
Marie shrugged. "More important, who is she working for?"
"The DEA, maybe? Or the DHS?" Liz suggested.
Marie shook her head. "It is possible, but not likely. Clarence would know; he's in touch with Interpol and the U.S. people."
"Why would they tell him?" Liz asked. "They might not know we're — "
"They keep him what is called 'in the loop,' so we don't get in their way, even when they are not using our resources."
"I thought Phillip said you were on the clock."
"Yes, he did, but that may only mean that Clarence is committed. If he has something going with a government agency, I would not necessarily know."
"Can you ask?"
"It is probably better for Phillip to ask. The U.S. agencies will respond better to him."
"Let's call him. It would be good to know if the woman is working for them. For all we know, she's an enforcer for some South American organization involved in human trafficking."
"Would it make a difference?" Marie asked.
"I don't know. I'd just like to know which side she's on. Aren't you curious?"
Marie thought for a moment. "It can't hurt to ask, I think. For me, it is sufficient to know that she is not on my team, but I understand why you wish to know."
"How can you work like that?"
"I am alive because I know who is on my team. Anyone else is an obstacle. They are to be avoided or neutralized. It is simple; there are no shades of gray."
Liz frowned. "Shall we call Phillip?"
****
"I don't even need to ask," Phillip said, in response to the question from Marie and Liz about the possible employer of the Hispanic woman. "I've already checked that out; Cedric asked me to do it. Clarence has followed up with his contacts, too."
"What was Cedric up to?" Liz asked. "I don't get the connection."
"Remember the crime wave in St. Lucia that I mentioned the other day? It's gotten worse."
"Can you tell us more about it?"
"Sure. Cedric thinks it could be related to Dani's disappearance, but we can't figure out how, exactly. He's just beginning to put all the pieces together. Ready?"
"Yes," Marie said.
"There's been a rash of violence. There may be a couple of unrelated things going on, but Cedric's gut instinct is that they're tied together, somehow. There's one group of assa
ults that appears to involve people who had contact with Dani. Two guards and the warden from the women's prison are in the hospital recovering from severe beatings. Zachary Lucas, the detective who was investigating that murder case, the guy on the beach, he's been beaten up as well, but a little less severely. The 'Cuban' woman has been tied to all of the assaults."
"Okay," Liz said. "I can see that Dani's connected to Lucas, but what's the deal with the guards and the prison warden?"
"Cedric's still asking questions; nobody's really come clean, yet, but there's some indication that Dani was taken to the women's wing of the prison for questioning, and then released."
"That sounds like a tenuous connection to Dani," Liz said.
"Yes, it's a stretch, but it's there. None of the victims are forthcoming; Cedric thinks they're covering up something. There's also the missing eyewitness, and the fact that the 'Cuban' woman questioned his wife. Cedric knew the guy was missing, but not about the woman questioning his wife."
"You told him this?" Marie asked.
"Yes," Phillip said. "He's on our side."
"Of course," Marie said. "How did he react?"
"He's going to have someone follow up with Lucas,"
"You said there were two things," Liz said.
"Yes. There's been a series of killings. Remember, I told you about three thugs who worked for a local mob boss named Theodore Barron?"
"The guys whose throats were cut in the hospital?" Liz asked.
"Right," Phillip said. "Two of them were hospitalized after a car wreck, but they had some odd injuries, like somebody worked them over either before or after their wreck. The third one was treated and released after the wreck, but his throat was cut in an alley near the hospital within minutes of the other two."
"How are they connected to Dani?"
"There's no connection to Dani except the timing."
"Timing?"
"Their automobile crash happened shortly after Dani was questioned and released."
"That's even more of a stretch," Liz said. "And why would somebody beat them up, leave them in a wrecked car, and then come back later to finish them off? Wouldn't it have been easier to do it at the scene of the wreck?"
"Good question. It's likely that they were beaten by one person and killed by another. Otherwise, as you point out, it makes no sense. Clarence found his sources a little more forthcoming on this one. Lucas was investigating; he had some indications from witnesses that made him think Barron's bodyguard killed them."
"His own men?" Marie asked. "Why would he do that?"
"Another excellent question. Some kind of cover-up, maybe? They knew something Barron didn't want revealed? Who knows?"
"Has anybody questioned Barron?" Liz asked.
"Lucas did, but he didn't get anywhere. Cedric sent someone to Barron's office to ask some follow-up questions, but Barron and the bodyguard were both dead."
"How?" Marie asked.
"Knife wounds — by a pro. One up under the chin into the brain, one through the top of the spinal cord from the back of the neck. No witnesses, no evidence left behind that would connect to the killer. Barron's office safe was open and empty."
"Robbery?" Marie asked.
"Possibly," Phillip said.
"Well," Liz said, "there's no way to tie that to Dani's disappearance."
"Except the video," Phillip said.
"Video?" Liz and Marie asked, in chorus.
"There was a video playing on a loop. The first segment was blurred, black and white. It wasn't part of the loop. The lab guys found it. The black and white part was a guy with his back to the camera torturing a girl who was tied to a chair. She said she was Danielle Berger, lived on a boat named Vengeance, and begged Liesbet Chirac to 'give them whatever they want.' The part that was looping was HD quality, hard core porn stuff, with the same guy abusing the woman. In that part, there were no names, just a lot of screaming and cursing, and it was clear that she wasn't Dani."
"The video Lanjwani sent us," Liz said.
"Seems to be, from what you described earlier. The bodyguard was the man in the video."
"Guess he got what he deserved. Anything else for us?" Liz asked.
"Yes. Just to let you know, the guys who were camped out on Vengeance were picked up early this morning. The audio pickup got part of the conversation. Their boss has another mission for them and wants to see them. They're under surveillance; we'll see where they go. I'll call as soon as we have more."
Chapter 24
"Marie?"
"Yes, Jean-Luc." Marie switched the satellite phone to speaker mode and put it on the table. She and Liz were drinking coffee in Kayak Spirit's main saloon.
"Two dead bodies in the front room of the apartment. The one that I mentioned carrying the briefcase earlier?"
"Yes. What about him?"
"He was the one who screamed, I think. He had i.d. that named him as Rashid Gorshani."
"The brother," Liz said.
"Pardon?" Jean-Luc asked.
"He's the brother of the man who tried to kidnap me," Liz said. "He would be Lanjwani's other brother-in-law."
"Okay," Jean-Luc said. "He was tied with cable ties and had several painful-looking knife wounds besides the one that killed him."
"Questioned, no doubt," Liz said.
"Yes, I think so. The other one was killed cleanly by one thrust up under the breastbone. He was a black man, named Mohammed Abdullah."
"What about the briefcase?" Marie asked.
"We have it. There's a ledger which appears to be some kind of payroll, and a series of folders with men's names on them and photographs of them in compromising positions."
"Blackmail?" Marie asked.
"I think so," Jean-Luc said. "And perhaps something else. At a first look, there are far more names in the ledger than there are file folders. Perhaps a list of people being bribed. What about the apartment, Marie? Should I call in a clean-up crew?"
"Did your team leave it as you found it?" Marie asked.
"Of course. Except for the briefcase."
"Then just leave it, I think," Marie said. "You are sure the woman was working alone?"
"Yes. There was no sign of anyone else in the apartment."
****
The dark-haired woman in a bathing suit cover-up strolled along Yellow Sands beach, overlooking La Toc Bay. She had entered through the grounds of the resort, blending with the early morning beach-goers who were settling themselves in lounge chairs.
Not having one of the plastic wrist bands that identified patrons of the resort, she didn't take a lounge chair. The hotel's security was lax, but if the chairs became crowded, they might notice a gate-crasher.
Instead, she walked up the beach a little way, toward Tapion Rock. Stopping, she turned through a full circle, admiring her surroundings. Nodding her head, a smile on her face, she slipped the large straw bag from her shoulder and took out a folded beach blanket, which she spread out and smoothed. She tucked the corners into the damp sand to keep the breeze from lifting them.
Stepping out of her sandals onto the blanket, she pulled the loose, cotton cover-up over her head and folded it, putting it into the bag, exchanging it for a book and a small pair of binoculars. She sat on the blanket facing the sea and began to read, ignoring the two large, pale, young men who strolled past.
She didn't acknowledge their admiring looks as they stared at her lithe, dark-bronze body. One gave a thumbs up to the other and split off from his friend, walking toward her.
"Good morning," he said, approaching her, a smile on his face.
She lowered the book and raised her head a bit, studying him through the mirrored lenses of her wrap-around sunglasses, checking him out, an encouraging smile on her dark face at first. Then she frowned and shook her head, not missing the wristband that marked him as a guest at the resort.
Undeterred by her negative assessment, he grinned at her. She looked pointedly at the soft belly that he struggled to hold flat and sh
ook her head again.
"Waiting for someone, beautiful?" he asked, moving closer to her blanket.
She put her book down and got to her feet in one fluid motion, stepping toward him, into his personal space. Her nose almost touched his. He stumbled back a step, the grin fading as she stuck her left index finger into his doughy midsection, probing.
She laughed, a derisive sound, keeping her finger there, kneading his fat, and raised her other hand to her sunglasses, lowering them enough to lock eyes with him. He took another step back and looked down at her hand, avoiding her cold, blue-grey stare, trying to escape the finger that still stroked his flab.
"I am not waiting for some fat pig of an Americano, maricón. Go back to your boyfriend and leave me alone."
He swallowed hard, his face turning red. He swelled his chest and made to step toward her, but then he looked down again, feeling the index finger stiffen and begin to dig in just below his breastbone. He stepped back again, chest deflating, shoulders sagging. "S-sorry," he said.
"Fuck off, comepinga," she said, her voice soft, menacing, as she raised the sunglasses and took her finger away from his gut. She remained standing, watching him, until he rejoined his friend, who was laughing at the failed attempt to pick her up. She shook her head as they walked away toward the hotel.
Settling onto the blanket again, she picked up the binoculars and began to study the small, rusty freighter that was anchored about a quarter of a mile to the northwest.
Through the rust streaks, it had some peeling, pale blue paint showing. It had a list to the port, she noted with the eye of a seasoned mariner, that didn't appear to be the result of uneven cargo distribution. Watching the waves at the waterline and the lack of response from the hull, she decided it was aground by the bow.
The tide was near high; the freighter wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. She could wait until tonight, after dark, as she had planned.
She would have dismissed the rust bucket as an abandoned derelict, but she knew better. Besides, she saw the occasional flicker of movement on the bridge. Her information was correct; there were people aboard.
****
The satellite phone chimed as Liz and Marie were finishing an early lunch of Liz's signature warm seafood salad. "It's Phillip," Liz said, picking up the phone and answering the call in speakerphone mode.
Bluewater Jailbird: The Tenth Novel in the Caribbean Mystery and Adventure Series (Bluewater Thrillers Book 10) Page 17