ESCAPE FROM AMBERGRIS CAYE

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ESCAPE FROM AMBERGRIS CAYE Page 12

by Joan Mauch


  A few minutes later, the man returned. "So, why're you sitting all alone in the dark?"

  "No reason. I’m just sitting here. Thinking. There a law against that?"

  "You a wise guy?"

  "No sir."

  "Then answer my question."

  "All right. I work for a TV station. We have reason to believe illegal activity is going on inside that house." He pointed at Leon's place "I'm on a stakeout."

  "Seriously? Let me see your press badge."

  With some trepidation, Jackson produced his credentials. If Morris Stone found out what he was doing, he'd get canned for sure.

  "What kind of illegal activity you talking about?"

  "Human trafficking."

  "Human trafficking? Why not report it to the police and let them take care of it?"

  "I already did. They said they suspected as much for some time, but haven't been able to catch them in the act. Without proof, there’s nothing they can do."

  "And you're trying to catch them in the act, that it?"

  "Yes sir."

  "Leave it to the police. They'll catch them eventually."

  "But by then it'll be too late," Jackson said.

  "Too late for what? Is there something you're not telling me?"

  Jackson hesitated. A train whistled in the distance, emphasizing his isolation. His dad was dead, Izzie had gone missing and now Zac was in the process of making himself a target.

  "My reporter's missing and I have good reason to believe the dirtbag that lives there knows something about it. I tried to get the police involved, but they say she’s probably shacked up with her boyfriend somewhere. They won't do anything till I can prove a law's been broken or that she met with foul play." He didn’t add that his brother was inside that house and he was worried sick about him. The cop didn’t have to know that.

  "And you can do neither, I assume?"

  "Right"

  "And that's why you're sitting alone in a dark alley?"

  The policeman removed his hat, scratched his scalp and then replaced it. "Well, you're right. You're not breaking the law sitting here, except maybe loitering. I can't prevent you from doing that, but I urge you to leave it to law enforcement. If your friend is really in danger, as you seem to think, it'll do no good for you to get involved. What I'm saying is, it'd be best if you went on home, but I guess that's up to you.

  “On the other hand, if we get complaints about you from concerned citizens, then you'll have to leave. As things stand, no one’s called. As far as I'm concerned you can sit here as long as you like. Just be careful. Sitting alone in a dark alley isn't the safest thing you can do."

  With that, the officer left Jackson to continue his lonely vigil. After noticing a number of porch lights snap on and shades raised, he realized people had taken notice. Fearing one of them might be Leon, he took the cop’s advice and went home.

  Chapter 49

  Izzie finally got her fear under control and had dozed off when the container she was in lurched, knocking her sideways. It was being moved and not with care either. She could hear a faint mumble of voices as the jostling continued.

  “Help, get me out of here,” she screamed, pounding till her fists were sore. It was useless. She either couldn’t be heard, or whoever was doing the moving, didn’t care.

  She felt around for the bottle, unscrewed the cap and took a swig. The water was tepid but felt good as it went down. Then, locating some kind of food bar, she unwrapped it. What she assumed was chocolate had melted, making a sticky mess on her hand. Eager to assuage her hunger, Izzie licked her fingers and devoured it. Feeling around in the small box, she located several more. She’d have to ration them, taking only small bites now and then. Same thing with the water. Who knew how long she’d be locked up?

  The container lurched again, some water spilled from the open bottle. Izzie quickly felt around for the lid. At this point water was more precious than gold, she couldn’t afford to lose a single drop. It was so hot and stuffy, she had a hard time breathing. She urgently prayed that God would rescue her before it was too late.

  Izzie thought of Jackson and how concerned he’d been over her welfare. She realized now how rude she’d been, acting like she was better than he was. And why? Because he schlepped all that video equipment in and out of the news van every day? Often sweating like a pig?

  In retrospect, she realized he worked a lot harder than she did: balancing a fifty-pound camera on his shoulder, even running with it to capture reluctant subjects. She had just never appreciated how difficult his work was or how seriously he took it—trying to get his best shot and making sure the lighting was just right. How could she have been so stupid? Now that she could do nothing but lie there and wait for whatever would come next, her mind played back her interactions with him. None of it was good.

  Tears streamed down her face as she recalled how he’d tried to keep her away from Leon. And her response? She’d told him to mind his own business—that she didn’t need to be protected by the likes of him. Turned out she was wrong. God, was she ever wrong. If only she’d listened. It was too late now, and she may spend the rest of her life regretting it.

  Chapter 50

  Jackson pulled into the station’s parking lot and began to unload his equipment. It was unusually warm for this time of year. He hoped that didn’t presage what the summer months would bring. He generally preferred Florida’s weather to the frigid winters of the Midwest, but when the thermometer rose above one hundred, he had to admit sometimes he longed for the cool weather back home. For the most part, however, he was content to stay where he was.

  His mother, having lived in the Midwest all her life, never understood his disdain for cold weather. And how could she? He’d grown up in the Midwest too. But it was just the way he was, he concluded and didn’t try to understand. Some people like it hot, some like it cold; there was no rhyme or reason to it.

  He was working at the edit bay finishing his footage, when Morris Stone stopped by.

  “Come into my office,” he said.

  Jackson didn’t like the sound of that. Stone was usually more genial in his approach. Not this time. It was an order, not a request. He signed off on the computer and made his way down the hall to his boss’s office. Before he managed to throw a genial “What’s up?” his way, Morris Stone said, “Close the door.”

  Jackson’s heart thumped a sharp staccato in his ears. Had something happened to Zac? Was his mom in an accident? Had they discovered Izzie’s body dumped in one of the canals? He sat down and held his left hand with his right to keep them both from shaking. There was no point asking what this was about; he’d find out soon enough.

  “Do you like working here?” Stone asked, his face as hard as his name.

  “What? Yes, of course. I love my job.” What was this about? Had someone complained? Jackson mentally ticked off the stories he’d covered over the past several days: The opening of a new Walmart; that child who’d gone missing and then was discovered a mile away at a friend’s house; the author who’d written her first novel; the impact of rising gas prices on motorists; the politician running for re-election. Nope. Nothing he could think of. Far as he knew, it had all run smooth as silk. What about his intern? Maybe he’d inadvertently made a comment she’d taken the wrong way? If he had, he didn’t recall doing it.

  “What’s this about?” he said.

  “It’s about you misrepresenting yourself to law enforcement, that’s what ‘it’s about’.” When Morris Stone got angry, his neck turned bright red and the flush crawled slowly up until it engulfed his face and ears. There was no mistaking the man’s emotional state even on the rare instances he tried to hide it.

  Jackson’s uncomprehending expression only served to further inflame the situation.

  “You don’t recall telling a police officer you were a reporter staking out a house where suspicious activity was taking place? That you told him the police hadn’t taken your report of a colleague’s disappeara
nce seriously and you feared she’d fallen prey to a human trafficker? Any of that sound the least bit familiar?”

  “Oh, that,” was all Jackson could think to say. In checking out his story, the officer must have talked to someone at the station who’d reported it to Stone. Perfect. Just perfect.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Stone. I needed a cover story and it was the best I could come up with at the time. It won’t happen again.”

  “You’re damned right it won’t happen again. If it does, you can look for another job. That clear?” The pitch of his voice rose.

  Jackson nodded. “Absolutely. I, for sure, won’t ever do it again.” He felt like a kid being reprimanded.

  “I’m assuming this has to do with Izzie?”

  “Yes, sir, it does.”

  “And what’d I tell you about that?”

  “That I was to forget her; that she was a stuck-up bitch who probably ran off with her boyfriend.”

  “And, did you?”

  “Did I what?”

  “Forget about her?”

  Jackson’s face fell. “No sir. I didn’t. I have it on good authority that she was hanging out with the guy I suspect is a trafficker. My brother had lunch with him and he admitted he’d been seeing her.” Jackson couldn’t bring himself to tell Stone the whole story.

  “So, some guy had the hots for her. That doesn’t mean he’s a trafficker or that he did anything to harm her. Jackson, you’ve got to let this go. If you want to keep your job, you’ll do as I say. Take this as a fair warning. I’m not telling you again. Got it?”

  “Yes,” Jackson said. “I understand.” He stood and left the office, heading for the parking lot on legs as wobbly as Jell-O.

  Now it wasn’t only Izzie and his brother’s lives on the line—but his job as well. As far as Jackson was concerned, if he lost this job—a career he’d trained so hard for; a job he loved and dreamed of having ever since he found out there was such a thing as a TV news cameraman—if he was fired, it’d be akin to losing his life. Without this job, he’d be lost.

  Jackson had to figure out which was more important: his dream job or the lives of two people—neither of whom had been especially nice to him

  He unlocked his car and sat for a moment, mulling over the situation. He really didn’t have a choice. He knew what he had to do. There were no options; none at all. This decision was going to affect his future—and not in a good way.

  He shrugged and started the engine. If he complied with Morris Stone’s demand and something bad happened to them, would he be able to live with himself?

  He slapped his hand on the steering wheel as the realization struck him with the force of a lightning bolt. Morris Stone be damned. There was no decision to be made. Jackson knew what he had to do and he would do it. That’s all there was to it.

  Chapter 51

  Zac stood on the pier watching a cruise ship disgorge its passengers. He wondered how many of those well-dressed people arrived under the guise of tourism and were facing a life of unimaginable horror.

  Standing there, gazing at the multistoried ocean liner gleaming in the sun, Zac felt like an ant beside a Hummer.

  He wandered to the other end of the wharf where cargo was being unloaded: steamer trunks, shipping containers, luggage. There were even animals in special crates. As he watched, the thought occurred to him that this would be an easy way to smuggle someone out of the country.

  Is that what Leon had done with Izzie? Surely not. Leon said they imported illegals to help them get a better life. Yeah, sure, if you mean a life of unpaid labor tied to a sewing machine or picking vegetables twelve hours a day. He’d said they weren’t in the business of exporting Americans, that it was too dangerous.

  Then what had he done with her? Murdered her? Zac didn’t think so. The man was way too emotionally involved to have done something like that. He would have figured out another way to dispose of her.

  For all his bad points, Leon still had a vestige of humanity about him. Zac simply did not believe he’d kill the one person he cared for. Get rid of her to protect himself, yes. Slaughter her? Not a chance. So where the hell was she and how was he going to find her? Good questions, but no answers—at least not yet. He’d find them, or die trying.

  As he watched, he began to wonder where those ships went. Perhaps that’s where he should begin. As he headed to a nearby travel agent’s office, he felt oddly exhilarated. It wasn’t so much that he knew what he was doing or had a solid lead; it was that for the first time he was taking a positive step in that direction. And at this point, that’s all that mattered.

  The woman at the desk was professional looking in a phony, yet attractive way. From his shabby clothes, she had to know he didn’t have the money for a trip of any kind. It’d be a waste of time, or as Jackson might say, a goat rope. Still, she treated Zac as though she might actually make a commission off him.

  “Good afternoon, sir. How might I be of assistance?” Her smile revealed white—almost too white—teeth, and dimples in both cheeks. Her dark hair was perfectly coifed into a mid-length page. She wore a single strand of pearls with matching dangle earrings. There was a hint of cleavage in the off-white top she wore under a navy blazer. Zac couldn’t help but wonder if she was as perky in bed as she was at the moment, or if it was all an act.

  He returned her greeting and said, “I wondered where those cruise ships go.” He realized he sounded more than a little bit like a hick, but in truth that’s what he was.

  “Ports of call you mean? It depends on the package and the cruise. Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?”

  “Not really. Watching the passengers get off the ship got me to wondering. Can you tell me?”

  “As I said, it depends on the cruise line and the particular package.” As she handed several brochures over the counter, Zac noticed her glossy red nail polish. “These should help. Look them over and let me know if anything interests you.”

  “Oh, I see something that interests me all right,” Zac said, catching her eye and giving her the smile that easily snagged girls back home. It didn’t work on this one.

  “It was nice talking to you,” she said, her perfectly phony smile in place. “You come on back if there’s anything more I can do to help plan your trip.” Then she picked up the phone and began to dial.

  Zac took the hint and left her to make money off real customers.

  Chapter 52

  “There you are,” Leon said making a point of looking at his watch. It was nearly five-thirty. “I thought we agreed you’d be back by five.”

  “We did. I just didn’t count on the trolley, uh, streetcar getting stalled on the tracks for half an hour. Sorry about that.”

  “Yeah, well, when I say be back by a certain time, I expect to see your butt here, stalled ‘trolley’ or not. If you’re going to work for me, I gotta know I can depend on you. Otherwise, you might as well get the hell outta here right now.”

  Zac knew he was late, but didn’t think it was all that important; in fact he didn’t expect Leon to notice. “Hey man, chill. I’m still finding my way around. It’s hard when you have to depend on public transportation, know what I mean? It’s not as reliable as a car.” He thought his broad hint might prod Leon into lending him his car, but no dice.

  “Yeah, well, from now on you’ll have to take that into consideration, won’t you? And don’t go telling me to ‘chill’ either.”

  Zac could see he wasn’t making any headway with his boss and decided to change the subject. “I went to the Port of Tampa and watched a cruise ship unload its passengers. Man, those things are humongous, aren’t they?”

  “Sure are.”

  “Ever been on one?”

  “What? A cruise?”

  “Yeah. You ever go? I mean you’re right here where they take off.” He pulled out the brochures the travel agent gave him. “Look here, you could go to The Caymans, Costa Rica, Belize—any or all of them. And it doesn’t seem like it’s all that ex
pensive either, especially since you don’t have to pay airfare.”

  “Yeah, all I need is money—and the time to get away from here.”

  “Well, I doubt money’s a problem for you what with all the business you do and…” Zac was going to add that with him on board now, Leon could easily take off for a few days whenever he liked, but he was interrupted.

  “What the hell do you know about my business?” The man had gone from making small talk to being livid in less time that it takes to sneeze.

  “Only what you’ve told me. I just thought…”

  “You’re not here to think. You’re here to do what you’re told—unless you think you’re too smart for this gig, in which case you can go running back to your brother. Oh, that’s right, he kicked you out; you’ve no place to go. So, maybe you just better keep your trap shut. How’s that sound?” Leon was nearly nose to nose with Zac now, his voice getting louder and angrier by the second.

  Zac took a step back in a bid to regain his personal space. “Sounds all right by me,” he said, and put the brochures in his pocket.

  Before leaving the room, Leon said, “A shipment’s coming in tonight around ten. Be here.”

  Chapter 53

  Wary after being “outed” by that damned policeman, Jackson decided to do his surveillance on foot. He parked the car close to the tourist area of Ybor City and made his way back to Leon’s house, taking a circuitous route to avoid being spotted. He realized he was getting paranoid, but didn’t want to take any chances.

  It was around nine-thirty and a moonless night made it difficult to see. Jackson squeezed behind an overflowing Dumpster and waited—for what, he wasn’t sure. After only ten minutes, he was ready to go home to the comfort of his apartment. The stink of rotting garbage and lingering heat from the sun beating on the concrete all day sank into his pores, making him dizzy and nauseous. The occasional scurrying feet of some four-legged critter only made things worse.

 

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