Charley Manner series Box Set

by Michael Marnier

  DIAMONDS UP THE WAHOO

  FIVE MILES OUT, we used high power watch binoculars and spotted Cartel goons standing around the tower base, automatic weapons slung on their shoulders. There were at least a dozen men. With a little luck our underwater entry will avoid trouble.

  One mile out, Vicky killed the engine and maintained a heading straight toward the cay. Hawk and I somersaulted off the stern dive platform. Our weight belts sank us to a thirty-foot depth before we added air to our buoyancy compensator vests. Weightless and silent, we kicked toward the base of the cliff.

  The Florida Current flows west to east so we chose our start point west of the target and used the current to glide in, conserving our energy and the capacity of our rebreathers. Vicky will power up and return to the drop point every twenty minutes, a classic drift fishing maneuver. She’ll have a few lines over the side in case anyone looks in her direction. Last thing we want is a fight with heavily armed men. If they bushwhack us and take the diamonds, we won’t get Katie and Hilly back alive.

  ~~~

  WE REACHED THE EDGE of the cay below the lighthouse before noon. There was a fissure in the cliff wall, fifteen feet below the surface. The high tide kept our entry hidden from the men at the base of the tower. The tunnel was large enough for us to swim side-by-side until we reached the crumbled remains of the cistern bottom. The hole was not very big. Hawk stayed outside in case anyone else showed up. You never know. Always watch your six.

  I pulled a few loose rocks to fit through the opening. Before sticking my head in, a fish burst out of the hole and sprinted for deep water. It was a wahoo, and a big one. How she got trapped in the small space is a mystery. I gave Hawk an OK sign and went in for a closer look. My dive-helmet light illuminated the tank walls. Picking up where I left off the last visit, I began a spiral scan around and around, working my way to the top. This time I spotted a three-inch hole about two feet from the ceiling. It looked like a feed pipe. Maybe that’s how the lighthouse keepers filled the tank with fresh water.

  I shone my light straight down the sidewall below the hole and found another opening at the edge of the tank bottom. Missed it on the way in. Got to be the pipe used to pump water up to the lighthouse. I looked more closely at the upper pipe. Seaweed partially covered the opening. I cut away the growth with my SOG knife. About six inches in I found a rubber tube, the size of a pepperoni sausage, stuffed in with more seaweed. When I pulled it out there was a strong suction pulling into the cleared pipe. The water level started to drop. I remembered the end of the verse on the map.

  A thousand stones you’ll discover,

  Look close or you won’t recover.

  Dare not leave empty-handed,

  Or suffer like a fish kept landed.

  By removing the tube, the incoming tide water level in the tank would no longer reach the top. It would drain out the pipe, leaving a larger air pocket for anyone trapped to survive until the tide turned. They would need patience to wait calmly, conserving oxygen. Not a foolproof plan. I’m glad I didn’t have to test it. Last time I had left empty handed and would have suffocated like a fish kept landed if Hawk hadn’t kicked in the portal door.

  The tube had some heft to it but difficult to say how much underwater. I popped off the end cap and shone my light inside. Hooyah, sparkling diamonds reflected back. I resealed it. Time to leave.

  I gave a thumbs up to Hawk when I emerged from the cistern and waved the tube. We swam back to the boat, kicking balls to the wall against the Florida Current. A large shadow moved below us, too deep to see clearly. No time for another drink with Jawselle. My sister and Hilly need to be rescued. We kicked harder.

  ~~~

  VICKY WAS WAITING at the rendezvous point with the bow facing the cay when we surfaced. We climbed the dive platform ladder, slipped through the transom door and went below. I opened the tube and spilled the contents onto the forward berth in the cuddy cabin. Diamonds. Big diamonds. Hundreds by the look of it. There was something else.

  Hawk pointed, “Is that another oil cloth?”

  I unfolded it. No map this time. Just some writing.

  One hundred more

  Swim offshore.

  Fish the right bait

  And do not wait.

  The carrier is alive

  But will not survive.

  Diamonds up the wahoo.

  I looked at Hawk. We both started counting the diamonds. We made separate piles of one hundred each. It took a few minutes.

  “There’s something fishy here, only nine piles. Juan Madera was a sly SOB. That Wahoo’s got the last one hundred diamonds. No time to catch her, we’ve got to visit Campinera, pronto.”

  I called up to Vicky at the helm, “Pull in the fishing lines and head back full speed, Vick. We’re a hundred short but there’s enough for drug lord bait.” I scooped up the diamonds, stuffed them with the oil cloth in my duffel and followed Hawk up the stairs to the deck.

  DRUG LORD’S LAIR

  FIFTY FLOORS UP, Vicky and I stepped off the elevator. Two oversized bodyguards in undersized black tee shirts and camouflage cargo pants waved metal detector wands up and down our bodies. They didn’t find the satin pouch concealed in Vicky’s ample cleavage. She stared them off when they got close. We had brought only one hundred diamonds to start the negotiations. They were laser scanned by GemPrint. Every diamond has its own unique visual signature—like a fingerprint.

  Hawk stayed in the lobby, holding another hundred in case we needed them. Vicky wore a wire—a tiny bug with wireless link to Hawk. He could hear and record everything. The stooges missed the bug, located in place of the third pearl button of her clingy silk blouse.

  Jorge Campinera stood looking out a large window with a panoramic view of Biscayne Bay, ignoring our arrival. He couldn’t be more than five feet two inches tall and weigh one hundred forty pounds.

  Make no mistake, his rep foretells a willingness to do violent things to get his way. Throw in a suspicious and egotistic nature and you have a very dangerous man. Vicky’s file on him says he’s seventy-two. Small and wiry, he fits the profile of a gangster with a Napoleon-complex. We better use some finesse—not my forte. I’ll let my sexy partner take the lead.

  He turned from the window; his stern Cuban features melted to a broad smile when he saw Vicky. He rushed up to her, took her hand and slobbered a kiss on her fingertips, keeping his eyes fixed on her breasts. He paid no attention to me. Not his type, lucky me. This could go well if I keep my mouth shut.

  Jorge asked Vicky, “When Señor Charley said he would come with a friend, I expected his partner. I had no idea. Perhaps when we are finished with this unfortunate business, you might stay for some lunch?” He still didn’t look at me, so I guess I wasn’t invited.

  I cleared my throat, “Allow me to introduce Victoria Barnes.” Vicky suggested we use a fake last name. “She’s a friend . . . a very close friend.” Jorge still ignored me. I think he was sucking on Vick’s fingertips. Gag me with chum bait.

  “Victoria, such a beautiful name.”

  Vicky inhaled deeply, thrust out her breasts and smiled. I thought Jorge was going to have a seizure. I gave her a don’t-overplay-it look. She just winked. Jorge thought it was for him. What a dork.

  Jorge finally tore his eyes away from Vicky and spoke to me. “You said when you called that you found my diamonds. Where are they?”

  “Where’s my sister and her husband?”

  Jorge’s cheeks reddened.

  Vicky stepped between us, elbowing me in the ribs, which reminded me of her visit to my RV and brought a smile to my face.

  She batted her eyes at Jorge and said, “Please, Mr. Campinera, Charley’s just upset. You know how it is when family is in trouble?”

  The drug lord smiled at her, “Of course. He is upset. I hope you are not upset. And please call me Jorge.”

  Vicky pressed closer, “To be honest, Jorge, I am worried about Charley’s sister and her husband. Charley told me Katie said something
about Horatio needing help. Is he injured?”

  Campinera waved his hand, “I leave such details to Carlos. If you have my diamonds, we can return Señor Charley’s family without delay.”

  Vicky reached into her blouse and pulled out the pouch. Campinera’s eyes bulged. She dangled it in front of him. Like a lizard thwacking a fly out of the air, he snatched the silk bag and held it to his nose, inhaling deeply. The lecher.

  After a second lascivious lungful, a puzzled look came on his face. “This smells exquisite, but there must be more. I lost one thousand diamonds. My business associate assured me there were one thousand five-carat brilliant cut stones, all grade D colorless, internally flawless, worth $100,000 each.”

  Vicky leaned forward for a better audio pick up. “You are certainly a man who knows rare gems, Jorge. I’m impressed.”

  Jorge puffed his small chest out and said, “I do enjoy the finer things in life and make it my business to know their value.”

  “Are you in the jewelry business, Jorge?”

  “I am in any business that makes money. The diamonds were payment for some goods delivered to a customer. Unfortunately, the employee tasked to bring payment to me was dishonest.”

  I had to bite my tongue. Dishonesty has a variable meaning to this crook. Vicky, accomplished actress that she is proving to be, just flashed an admiring smile at this Napoleon wannabe.

  Vicky said, “Charley told me about the corpse he found in his fishing chair. It must have been an awful accident.”

  Jorge Bonaparte beamed, “Oh my dear, with one-hundred million dollars in diamonds at stake, it was no accident.”

  Gotcha. Keep talking, coke-for-brains.

  “I expect loyalty from employees. When they are disloyal, they feel my knife.” Jorge reached into his pocket, but then stopped himself. He shook his head and looked at me. “Señor Charley, where are the rest?”

  Vicky wasn’t giving up control easily. She pushed herself against Jorge and said, “Oh Jorge, we brought these today as a gift, a sign of good faith. After all, you are not releasing Katie and Horatio right now, are you?”

  He leaned into her advance and smiled. “You are correct. How rude of me not to recognize your generous gesture. When can you deliver the rest? Carlos will bring your friends to swap.”

  I couldn’t keep silent any longer. The love fest was too much. “Tomorrow at noon. They better be healthy, Jorge.” He seemed oblivious to my threat.

  “No problem. I will instruct Carlos to be at the lighthouse tower with your sister and brother-in-law. It is better to do it on neutral ground, yes?”

  Vicky gave him a squeeze on the bicep…a puny bicep. “We’ll be there with the diamonds.”

  Jorge seemed pleased with himself and offered again for Vicky to stay for lunch and whatever. I still was not invited. Vicky wisely declined but asked for a rain check. We made a rapid exit, passing Hawk in the lobby as he gave us a thumbs up. He got it all on microchip.

  THE SWAP

  A FAST MOVING late season tropical storm roared into the straits overnight. Travel by boat was dangerous but circumstances demanded no delays. State Department flunkies finally gained approval from the Bahamian authorities to officially enter Elbow Cays. There was a catch. There’s always a catch with the federal government.

  Since the case had morphed into a kidnapping, Vicky had to welcome a new team member from the FBI. She called me late last night from her office in Miami. I had just gotten back to Marathon when my phone rang. She told me her goal remained gathering enough evidence to arrest Campinera for drug trafficking and murder, but she assured me that my sister’s safe return was more important.

  Hawk and I waited at the Marathon Marina, watching the breakers wash over the outer docks.

  Hawk said, “Rough seas, bro. When is Vicky supposed to get here?”

  “She should be here by now. We’ll blow the swap if we don’t leave soon. Sixty miles will seem like a hundred sixty with this storm.”

  Hawk pointed at the entrance to the main channel of the marina. “That must be her.”

  A forty-two-foot Cigarette boat carved through the chop and idled into the empty slip next to Too Fast For U. Vicky waved from the passenger seat as a deckhand jumped onto the dock to tie up. A swarthy man dressed inappropriately for a rough sea passage emerged from the cabin. Hawk and I walked over for introductions.

  Vicky looked stressed. “Good morning guys. This is Dino Bachero, FBI Special Agent assigned to the case.” Her voice was laced with venom.

  I tried to sound civil, “I didn’t know we needed help. What’s changed?”

  Bachero blurted, “There’s no room for mistakes. We want to rescue your sister and her husband unharmed and build the case against Campinera. Professionals can do it. Amateurs will screw it up.”

  Hawk went ballistic, “Who are you calling amateur, dude?”

  I could see that Vicky was holding her tongue. Apparently, she had no choice but accept Bachero to our team. In fact, it appeared he joined as co-leader. Talk about too many chiefs. If my Italian is accurate, bachero means dishwasher. I see a cluster fuck coming. But we had no time to debate who’s in charge. We needed to agree on a plan and get underway. The rough seas will make it at least a two-hour trip to Cay Sal Bank.

  Bachero invited us to go below in the Cigarette’s forward cabin. It was the 42X model, a go-fast boat with twin 700 horsepower V-drives that could push the sliver-shaped hull to a top speed of 100mph on smooth water. The purple paint job fit the name—Purple People Eater.

  We decided to use two boats, one for backup will stay a mile offshore from the cays. The high winds and rain eliminated the chance of a mini drone spotting the size of our group. The shallows of Cay Sal Bank will be exploding with breakers that will test our sea legs as well as our stomachs.

  Dino was green around the gills after the trip down from Miami but still tried to gain control of the planning. He mistakenly thought his home turf advantage aboard Purple People Eater gave him the right. Vicky wouldn’t have it. Before he could get a word out, she said, “Campinera’s been my number one priority for the past eighteen months. This is the break I’ve been waiting for and I’ll be damned if you think you can take the lead, Dino.”

  The dishwasher’s face reddened. “Ms. Borne, the Director made it clear we would act as a unified team. I have more experience with kidnapping negotiations.”

  “And I have more experience dealing with drug lords and their minions. We’ve got his agreement to keep this a simple exchange. All the diamonds are GemPrinted. We want Campinera to take possession. Don’t over-complicate it.”

  Before the pissing contest got out of control I said, “Look, Katie is in danger and Hilly may be hurt. Put aside the egos and move out. The weather’s not getting any better.”

  A gust of wind rocked the boat, even in the shelter of the marina, reinforcing my point. Vicky, Hawk and I will land at the cay. I’ll wear a wireless earbud and throat mike. Hawk will stay with the boat linked via his comm set. Dino and his two crew members patched into Hawk by marine radio, will remain in the deep channel. I could see he didn’t like it, but he was outmatched by two large ex-SEALs and one determined DEA agent, armed and dangerous all. We headed out without further delay.

  ~~~

  HIGH WINDS CHURNED up fifteen-foot waves that raced in from the southeast. The roller-coaster ride from Marathon to Cay Sal Bank took a full two hours. It was 1145 when Vicky and I entered the tower. Carlos was already there. There were two armed thugs behind him, bookends on either side of Katie. Her wrists were bound with a zip tie. Hilly lay motionless on the floor in front of them a bandage wrapped around his head.

  I called out to Katie, “Are you okay? What happened?”

  Katie started to answer, but Carlos raised a hand and she stifled. “Your sister has been instructed to keep silent till we conclude our business. Be assured that she has been treated well. Her husband is not so good. But it is his own fault. He tried to resist. A futile effor
t.”

  Vicky stepped closer, within ten feet. I stayed a foot behind and to her right. Close enough to dive at Carlos, apply a choke hold and trade his release for my sister’s if the diamond-swap gets screwed up. Carlos is no fool. He moved back two paces, closer to Hilly. An awkward arrangement so I cooled it and let Vicky speak.

  “I can see that you are an intelligent gentleman, Carlos. Your boss will be pleased. Here are the diamonds.”

  She held up the satchel. It contained nine pouches like the one we left with Jorge yesterday. Eight contained eighty-nine diamonds, the ninth had eighty-eight. A total of eight hundred. We hoped Carlos would take our word that each pouch contained one hundred.

  Carlos took the satchel, walked behind his bodyguards and said to Vicky, “Forgive me for not trusting a beautiful woman, but experience has taught me to be cautious.” He opened a case on the floor. “We have many tools to improve the productivity of our business. This pill counter will count 500 per minute.” He flashed perfect white teeth at Vicky. “After all, diamonds are just very expensive pills, yes?”

  So much for our plan to fool him. In less than two minutes it could get ugly.

  Carlos squinted at the counter as he poured each bag of diamonds into the loading tray. After a few loaded, he looked up from the readout and said, “You are sure all of our diamonds are here? It will be most unfortunate if that is not the case.” He continued to load more. I looked at Vicky. We needed to disarm the bodyguards . . . now.

  Hilly moaned and started to get up. Just the distraction we needed. With surprising quickness, Vicky lunged at the thug on the left. Hilly must have been faking the severity of his injury because he spun his legs like a whirligig beetle, tripping the guard, making Vicky’s task easier. She used the momentum of the guard’s downward fall to drive his head onto the cement floor and knocked him out.

  Not one to be left out, Katie pivoted and drove her knee into the other guard’s groin then stepped toward Carlos. I wasted no time kick diving at the groaning guard. My boot connected with the back of his head as he doubled over from Katie’s knee thrust. He staggered but held on to his gun. The guy must have brass balls and a cement head.