"That's cool. I've never met an author. What's he like?"
"He's just another sailor. He and his wife have been living on their boat down here in the islands for years."
"I see. I think I could live down here; it's beautiful."
Paul cupped a hand behind his ear and got to his feet, turning as he scanned the horizon.
"What's wrong?" Sadie asked, alarm in her voice. "Is someone coming?"
"I don't know," Paul said, taking the binoculars from their rack at the steering pedestal. He raised them to his eyes and adjusted one of the eyepieces. "It's a big motoryacht. Looks like he's going to Marie Galante, but he could be coming here."
"Can a big motoryacht even fit in here?" Sadie asked.
"Depends on how big it is," Connie said.
"One like that one we saw yesterday, say," Sadie said, a slight quaver in her voice. "Could that get in here?"
"One like that would probably anchor a few hundred meters farther to the west, not up here between the islands. Why?"
Sadie shook her head, chewing her lip. "No reason, I guess."
Paul and Connie traded glances.
"Think I'll grab one of those books," Sadie said, standing. "Which one's first?"
"Bluewater Killer," Connie said. "Come on, Paul, let's rig the awning and the hammocks."
****
"Where the hell could they be?" Pratt asked. He stood at the chart table on the bridge of Morning Mist. Freddy Thompson and Gerry Semmes, the captain, were poring over a chart of the island of Guadeloupe with him.
"How 'bout somewhere up here?" Freddy asked, running a finger over the area marked Grand Cul de Sac Marin.
"I doubt it, Semmes said. "I mean, yeah there's places to anchor up there, but nobody goes in there unless they're planning to go through the Rivière Salée."
"The what?" Freddy asked.
"This river." Touching the chart again, Semmes traced the course of the river that bisected the island.
"Well, maybe — " Freddy was cut off by Semmes, who said, "A boat like that can't get through the river; it's a shallow-draft route."
"Oh," Freddy said.
"We done looked all along the west coast," Pratt said, "and in Pointe-à-Pitre. Where else is there?"
"There're all kinds of places," Semmes said. "There are several along the south coast, and then there's the Saintes."
"Suppose they done gone?" Freddy asked. "What's that next island to the south?"
"Dominica," Semmes and Pratt said, simultaneously.
"Can we check customs and see if they done left?" Freddy asked.
"No, not really," Semmes said.
"Well, why not? You asked 'em if they was here."
"Yeah, Freddy, but that wasn't customs. That was just the guy that runs the Internet café. He can't get into the customs database. He just told me they used a computer there to clear in. If they cleared out, he wouldn't know unless they went back in there to do it."
"Are there other places they could clear out?" Pratt asked.
"Yes, sir," Semmes said. "There's customs at the marina just south of Basse Terre, and in Marina Bas du Fort, in Point-à-Pitre. Or they could have cleared out from the Saintes. For that matter, they could have cleared in and out at once, back in Deshaies, depending on how long they were staying, I think. You know, like for a day or two, maybe."
"Damn," Pratt said. "we could spend forever flyin' around in the chopper lookin'. With all them boats in that marina in Pointe-à-Pitre, we coulda missed 'em. Where do most of them charter boats go, Gerry? You used to do that, right?"
"Yes, sir. Mostly into Deshaies and then down the west coast to the Saintes. From there it's a short hop to Prince Rupert Bay in Dominica. Usually, only the ones that pick up their charter in Pointe-à-Pitre go up in there to the city; it's a pretty hard beat into the wind to get up there."
"What about these here islands?" Pratt tapped at Desirade and Marie Galante with his forefinger.
"Not usually. I mean, they're pretty spots, but they're out of the way, and there's nothing much there. Plus, they're another hard beat to windward for a sailboat."
"I can't picture that little bitch goin' somewhere out of the way. She likes to spend my money too much."
"That argues for Pointe-à-Pitre, or maybe the Saintes," Semmes said. "Those are the shopping spots — designer clothes, jewelry, damn near everything's in Pointe-à-Pitre. There's one whole street of nothing but shoe stores. In the Saintes, it's more like art galleries and stuff."
"You check the credit card again, boss?" Freddy asked.
"Yeah, early this mornin'. No new charges since Antigua." Pratt stood, staring at the chart and scratching his head. "Tell you what, Freddy. You take the chopper again and check the Saintes. Me and Gerry'll take the picnic boat and run up into the marina at Pointe-à-Pitre. Too damn many boats in there to spot 'em from the chopper when we flew in there a while ago."
"Okay," Freddy said. "But I got a hunch, boss."
"What's your hunch, dumb-ass?"
"Dominica. We do some — "
"Dominica? That ain't the kind of place she'd wanna hang out."
"But if they ain't checked in there, it probably means they're still here, right?"
"Yeah but we'd kill a few hours goin' down there. We might miss 'em if they're still here, bonehead."
"We do some business there, right, boss? In Dominica?" Freddy asked.
"So?"
"So can you get somebody to check with customs there? We probably got a contact — "
"Boy, sometimes you're smarter than you look. Get your ass in the chopper. I'll make that call while you launch the boat, Gerry. It's gonna take a few hours to get word back from Dominica. We might find 'em by then, if they's still here. If not, then we're off to Dominica."
****
Sadie glanced up and gazed out at the horizon, collecting her thoughts. She was having difficulty focusing on what was going on in the book she was reading. She knew it was because of her situation; she couldn't get her mind to let go of the idea that Jonas Pratt was on her trail. She feared for her own safety, but she also felt guilty because of what had happened to Tom. She wondered yet again how he was doing; she'd really liked him. After seeing Morning Mist yesterday, she was worried that she'd bring Pratt's wrath down on Connie and Paul, too. She couldn't face causing trouble for two more innocent bystanders, especially when they had been so nice to her.
She reached across and put the book on the cockpit table. She and Connie were reading, each in a hammock, one on either side of the cockpit. Paul was below deck, sending email or doing something online. She made her decision.
"Hey, Connie, can I interrupt your reading?"
"Sure, Sadie." Connie lowered her book and turned so that she was facing the girl. "What's on your mind?"
"I don't quite know how to say this ... " Sadie hesitated.
Connie waited, an encouraging smile on her face. She nodded.
"You and Paul have been great to me, really nice ... "
"You're an easy shipmate, Sadie. It's a pleasure to have you aboard."
Sadie sniffed and swallowed, looking down, away from Connie's warm, dark eyes. "I really like you guys. I haven't had a friend in a long time. Not somebody that wasn't trying to play me somehow, you know?"
Connie nodded. "I understand. You're a good person, Sadie. Whatever's happened to you, whatever you've had to do, it doesn't change that."
"God, you're not making this easy for me. I know you don't mean to, but ... " Sadie stifled a sob.
"Just tell me, Sadie. Whatever you need to say, it's okay. That's the way friends work."
"I need to leave."
Connie frowned. "You mean, go below? Or you want us to move the boat?"
"No. I mean, leave you and Paul and the boat. I don't want to, but this just isn't right."
"Have we done something? I'm so — "
"No, no. You two are the best thing that's happened to me since before my parents died. That's why I can't
stay."
"Okay, but I don't understand, Sadie. Are you not comfortable on the boat? Is that it? We can — "
"No. It's all my doing. It's me. Just me. And after what happened with Tom, I don't want to cause trouble for you, too."
"What happened with Tom? I'm confused ... "
"I told you there was a man in my life, remember?"
Connie nodded.
"He's not a nice man. He owns the strip club where I worked, and I was ... well ... he ... shit! There's just no way to say this except to say it. I moved in with him; I pretended to myself that I didn't have a choice, but I ... Well, anyway, after I started making money singing, I didn't want to strip anymore, and he wouldn't let me stop. He threatened to ... never mind. I told him I was moving out, and he beat me. He and this jerk that he kept around to do his dirty work. You saw the bruises. He tied me down naked and whipped me with an extension cord. God! I never knew anything could hurt so much! They took me to the recording studio the next day because I had a session scheduled, and I could barely walk, let alone sing. I called Leana from the studio after they left and she came and got me and put me on the plane. She'd already set this up, before he ... I made him angry."
"That's not your fault, Sadie. Know that. Men like him are experts at taking advantage of women. You're not the only one who's been through something like this, believe me."
"Yeah, but he's ... I think the strip clubs are just a cover. He's rolling in money; I'm pretty sure he's some big-time drug boss. I told you about being in St. Barth, remember?"
"Yes, I remember."
"Well, we were on his boat, and it was like a convention of some kind. A lot of the girls from the clubs were there to ... well, you can guess. It was about the only time I was ever glad that everybody thought I was his personal property. Otherwise, I would have been passed around like they were. And there were piles of drugs set out like hors d'oeuvres. I can't believe I'm telling you this; I'm so ashamed. But I need to get away from you and Paul before he finds us, or you guys will end up like Tom, or worse."
"You think he was behind what happened to Tom Connolly?"
"I suspected it right off; that woman and her stupid picture. She probably put it on Facebook or something. But when I saw Morning Mist in Falmouth Harbour, I knew for sure. Now you see why I need to leave?"
"Yes, but you don't need to leave. Where would you go? He'll track you down. He found you here."
"Yeah, but you and Paul don't need to be involved."
"Involved in what?" Paul asked, appearing in the companionway.
****
Paul listened without comment as Sadie ran through the story she'd just told Connie. She added an occasional detail at Connie's prompting.
"Hmm," he said, when she was finished. "That's really something."
"So you see why I need to leave," Sadie said. "I don't want to cause trouble for you."
"Trouble and I aren't strangers," Paul said. "Remember where I came from."
"Yes, but Connie — "
"I know you think you're the only one with a sordid past, Sadie, but I could tell you things that would curl your hair. I have a thing about bastards who take advantage of women. You don't need to go anywhere. Let's figure out how we're going to get this jerk off your case."
"But how? He's — "
"With your permission, I'd like to make a few phone calls," Paul said. "First to my old partner at the MPD. I recognize Jonas Pratt's name; you're right. He's into more than a couple of strip clubs. But nobody's ever been able to pin anything on him."
"That makes me nervous, involving the Miami police."
"We aren't really involving the police. Just my partner, Luke Pantene. He runs the homicide squad now. We've saved each other's lives more times than either one of us can remember. He won't let anybody — "
"There was a guy on Morning Mist in St. Barth," Sadie said. "The other girls said he was high up in the Miami Police Department, like in charge of vice, or something. And there was another guy he hung around with who was like a commissioner."
"You don't by chance remember either one's name, do you?"
"Oh, yeah. The cop was Louie. That's it. I'll never forget it. I'm not sure if this commissioner was even on the boat; one of the other girls told me about him when we were talking about Louie. I don't know his last name, though."
"Louie Delgado, maybe?" Paul asked.
"Maybe. I'm not sure I ever heard it, but I'd recognize him in a heartbeat. He was leering at me the whole time, and ... uh ... " Sadie's face flushed and she looked away.
"It's okay, Sadie," Connie said, putting an arm around the girl's shoulders. "Remember what I told you? About people making judgments?"
Sadie nodded. "Yeah," she sighed. "It's just so disgusting. This Louie guy and Jonas were playing some kind of poker game, and Louie had bet $200,000 on this one hand. Jonas bet me against the $200,000." She sobbed. "They argued about how long Louie could have me if he won. Jonas made me undress and let Louie feel ... and ... then he said, 'Shit, Louie, bump it up to 250 grand and you can just keep her if you win. I'll even set her up in a place for you.'" Tears ran down the girl's cheeks.
Paul and Connie waited for her to regain her composure. After a minute or two, Sadie said, "Jonas won. He always won; he had these special cards. I knew he would, but it was just so ... " She shook her head. "Sorry. I'm sure that's more than you wanted to know. Anyway, I won't have any trouble recognizing Louie."
"I'm pretty sure I know who he is," Paul said, "but it would be good if you could i.d. him and put him on that boat with Pratt in St. Barth. How about the commissioner? I could get some mug shots, just in case he was one of the men on the boat."
"Maybe. Maybe not. There were maybe twenty men there besides Jonas's people. I didn't see much of most of them. I only got a good look at Louie because of what I just told you; Jonas said he was going to give me to him sometime after we got back anyway. He said I should be nice to Louie while we were on the boat; it could make things easier for me later on. But after we got back, he said that one of the other men on the boat wanted me, too. Some guy from Colombia, who was way more important than Louie. This was supposed to make me feel good, I guess."
"And how about this guy who did Pratt's dirty work? You know who he is?" Paul asked.
"Oh, yeah. Freddy. Freddy Thompson. He's, like, Jonas's retarded cousin or something. He's probably the one who beat up poor Tom. That's the kind of thing Jonas used him for. That, and terrorizing the girls. He had a branding iron; some of the girls ... " She shook her head. "What else do you want to know? I'm feeling kinda ... "
"Drained?" Connie asked.
The girl sagged against Connie and nodded. "Yeah, drained."
"That's enough for now," Paul said. "Sorry to ask you to dredge up all the unpleasant memories, but this is plenty to get us started. We'll put this bastard away. The Feds and the police have been after him for years. You're exactly the break they needed. I'm going below to make a few calls."
Chapter 15
"It's safe to involve Luke because he has access to people outside the Miami PD. He won't be asking his questions within the department." Paul said, trying to allay Sadie's fears about Louie. She was worried that word of Paul's questions to Luke might somehow get back to Pratt.
"How is that?" Sadie asked.
"I was the MPD liaison to the Joint Terrorism Task Force in south Florida," Paul said. "When I retired, Luke picked up that responsibility as well as the rest of my job. That means he doesn't have to work through the department to get his information. He can tap into all the three-letter Federal agencies, so it's less likely that somebody's tipping off corrupt locals."
"I see. So he knew who Louie was?"
"He suspects the same guy I do, but he's emailing me some mug shots. They'll be here later this evening; he was out of the office, and he wanted to handle this personally. There's some big internal flap in the department right now — a major corruption investigation — and he wanted to keep th
is to himself until we knew more."
"Oh," Sadie said. "That's good, I guess."
"He thinks he knows who this Colombian big shot is, too," Paul said. "The JTTF stays tuned in to a bunch of DEA intel, and they knew there was a big meeting in St. Barth a few months ago. The head of one of the cartels was rumored to be there; they were carving up territories in North America, supposedly. What they didn't know was that Pratt was the host. Nor did they know it was on Morning Mist."
Sadie swallowed hard. "Did he think that might have been ... " she shook her head. "That's even scarier than I thought. Jonas Pratt's involved in something that big?"
"Could be. Luke's just getting started, given what you told us. He's including some pictures of known heavies in the cartel along with shots of Delgado and the police commissioner. We'll see if you recognize any of them from St. Barth."
"Okay; I'm really — " Sadie was interrupted by the ringing of the satellite phone that Paul and Connie kept aboard.
Connie looked at the caller i.d. screen and accepted the call. "Hello, Sharktooth?"
She listened for a moment and said, "Yes, Paul's with me. So's our latest guest, okay?" She switched to speakerphone mode and set the phone on the cockpit table, next to the tray of hors d'oeuvres they were sharing while they watched the sunset.
"Hi, Sharktooth," Paul said. "Say hello to Sadie Storm; she's with us for the next few weeks."
"Good evening, Sadie, Paul." Sharktooth's bass voice taxed the frequency range of the phone's little speaker.
"Hi," Sadie said, looking puzzled.
"Sharktooth's one of our best friends," Connie said. "He even officiated at our wedding. You'll meet him if we go to Dominica."
"Okay, great," Sadie said.
"Sorry to intrude on your evening," Sharktooth said, "but I thought you should know that somebody called customs here looking for Diamantista II this afternoon."
"Who?" Paul asked.
"I don' know. You 'member Maureen's cousin Maggie? From the wedding? She did the flowers."
"Of course," Connie said, smiling.
"Her nephew's half-sister works in customs in Roseau."
"Okay," Paul said, "And?"
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