Chapter 24
Paul brought the dinghy to a stop alongside Diamantista II and reached up to grasp the toe rail. In the distance, he could see Sadie and Sandrine standing on the town dock, watching him. "Connie?" he yelled, as he tied the dinghy's painter to the midship cleat on the starboard side. "You okay?"
He clambered over the lifelines and turned to the cockpit, freezing when he saw the pool of dried blood on the starboard cockpit seat. Wishing he were armed, he saw the rigging knife on the seat as he stepped over the cockpit coaming. He bent and picked it up, noticing that it was covered in blood. He took in the splintered teak next to the blood stain as he hurried below. Nothing below deck was out of place; whatever had happened had happened in the cockpit.
He paused before going back up, forcing himself to scan his surroundings. The can of varnish sat closed on the galley counter on top of folded newspaper. Next to that, a used paper filter funnel rested in an empty coffee can, and a quart of thinner stood beside that. He shook his head and climbed the companionway ladder, seeing another coffee can, this one with a varnish brush laid across the open top. He peered into the can and saw that a skin was forming over the thinned varnish, so it had been there, untouched, for a little while. "Maybe half an hour, 45 minutes," he muttered. Seeing the fresh, mirror finish on the cockpit table, he touched its corner lightly with his index finger; it was barely tacky.
Hearing the rumble of a loud exhaust, he looked up and to the south, spotting Lightning Bolt, Sharktooth's go-fast boat disguised as a parasailing excursion boat, charging toward the anchorage. A few hundred meters out, the boat slowed, settling in the water. Phillip and Sharktooth saw him, and both rose to their feet, waving. He gave a half-hearted wave in return and watched as they drew alongside.
"You look unhappy," Phillip said, as he rested his hands on Diamantista II's toe rail.
"Connie's missing; there's blood and a bullet hole in the cockpit. From the state of the varnish she was using, I'd say less than an hour."
"Leave it," Phillip said. "I'll call Clarence and get a forensics team out here, okay?"
Paul nodded, but didn't say anything.
"Where's Sadie?" Phillip asked.
"On the dock with Sandrine," Paul said, pointing.
"Come on. Let's go to the house and get things moving," Phillip said.
Paul nodded again and stepped onto the side deck, the knife still clutched in his hand.
"You find that here?" Phillip asked.
"What?" Paul asked.
"The rigging knife in your hand."
"Oh," Paul said, looking down at the bloody knife. "Yeah."
"May as well put it back as close to where you found it as you can. I'll tell Clarence you handled it. You touch anything else?"
"I put a fingerprint on the starboard forward corner of the cockpit table. Looks like she'd just finished varnishing it; it's still a little tacky." Paul turned and reached over the coaming, putting the knife back where he'd found it.
"Let's go," Phillip said.
Paul nodded and got in the boat.
****
Pratt was still waiting for them to bring the woman to him when the intercom from the bridge buzzed. He pressed the switch down and barked, "Yeah?"
"Monique just called." Semmes said. "They're back. The two — "
"Back?"
"Back on the boat. Russo left the two women on the dock and took the dinghy out there. He was only there a couple of minutes when a parasailing boat pulled up alongside and — "
"A parasailing boat?"
"A go-fast boat, all painted up advertising parasailing. Two guys in it. He seemed to know them. He got in the boat with them and they went back to the dock. Russo and the other white man left with the women, and the black man drove the go-fast boat away toward Cul-de-Sac Marin. She said the black man was a giant."
"Okay, thanks. Gotta go; I hear them coming with the woman."
There was a knock at the cabin door.
"Come," Pratt yelled.
The door opened and two crewmen frog-marched Connie into the cabin, stopping in front of Pratt's desk. He studied her for a moment, taking in the composed look on her face. "Do you know who I am?" he asked.
She studied him for a moment, as if she were trying to decide whether he was sentient or not. "You must be Jonas Pratt. I assume the other asshole is Freddy Thompson. Is he still alive?"
"You care?"
"I take pride in what I do."
"How do you know our names?"
"I know more about you two than just your names."
"Like what?"
"Like Freddy should still be locked up in Antigua."
"Yeah? Well, maybe you're wrong about that."
She stared at him, a cold look in her dark eyes.
"Why aren't you scared shitless, bitch?"
"Why should I be?"
"I can do anything I want to you, and Sadie must have told you what me and Freddy are like."
"I'm not a frightened child like your other women. You don't know a thing about me, do you?"
"I know I'm gonna trade you for Sadie, unless you piss me off. Then I'll give you to Freddy to play with. He's got this thing for Latinas."
"I don't think Freddy's likely to be much fun after our little set-to."
"I need the code to unlock your phone."
"It's set up for touch i.d. The code's only part of your problem."
"I could cut your finger off."
"If you knew which one. But I don't think that you want to do that. It could come back to bite you."
"Big talk, bitch."
She shrugged, as best she could with the two men holding her arms, her wrists still bound behind her. "Like I said, you don't know anything about me, or what kind of trouble you might have just bought yourself."
He looked at her for several seconds. "I know you got guts. And you ain't no slouch with a knife, either. What would you do if you was me? Huh?"
"If you're not scared I'll hurt you, you could cut my wrists loose. I'll unlock the phone for you. You've still got two men here to help you if you're scared of me. I'm guessing you want to call my husband and try to set up a swap."
Pratt opened the center drawer of his desk and pulled out a pistol. He put it on the desk within easy reach. "I'm gonna cut you loose, bitch. Then you sit down in that chair." He picked up the pistol and gestured to a side chair a few feet in front of the desk. "If you get up without me telling you to, I'll kneecap ya. We understand one another?"
She nodded.
"Cut her loose," he said.
One of the men released her arm and stepped behind her. She felt a tug at her wrists, and then her arms were free.
"Let her go," he said.
The second man released his grip on her left arm.
"Leave us," Pratt ordered.
The two men scurried out of the cabin, closing the door.
Connie rubbed her wrists for a few seconds and sat down in the chair. Pratt tossed her the phone. She fumbled it, dropping it in her lap.
"Hands are a little numb," she said.
Pratt nodded. "Unlock it and place a call to Russo, then set it on the desk and slide it to me."
She shook her hands in the air for a few seconds and picked up the phone, placing the call. As it began to ring, she scooted it across the desk to him. He put a finger to his lips and picked up the phone in his left hand, the pistol in his right hand pointing at her.
"Russo?" he asked. "Shut up asshole. I talk, you listen. I got your lovely wife here with me, and you got Sadie. We gonna trade. You got that?" He paused for a second. "Later. She's busy right now. We ain't hurt her much. Not yet, but my boy Freddy does like them Latinas, even though she's a little long in the tooth for his taste. I'm holdin' him back, so far. Now, you get your ass ready to put out to sea. First stop, Diamond Rock. You sail out there now and heave to. I'll call with more instructions after a while. Just you and Sadie. You leave them two assholes in the parasailing boat in Ste. Anne, or
you'll get your wife back in pieces. Then I'll kill you. I got people watchin' you."
Connie could hear Paul talking as Pratt disconnected the call. He grinned at Connie. "You and me got some time to get better acquainted. Probably a couple of hours before we call him again."
"Who sprung Freddy?" she asked.
"Sprung? Whaddaya mean, sprung?"
"He was locked up in Antigua yesterday."
"You think so?"
"I know so. My people set it up; they watched when the harbor patrol in Dominica followed your captain back from customs and arrested Freddy." She saw the surprise on his face. "You aren't the only one watching people."
"Your people?" he asked.
She nodded, but didn't say anything. They locked eyes for several seconds.
"I got connections in Antigua. All over the islands," Pratt said.
"Not all over," she said. "You steer clear of the French islands. Scared of the Unione Corse?"
"The French islands ain't worth the trouble, maybe."
"Trouble to you? Or to Hector?"
"Hector?" He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, but not before the flicker of panic in his eyes gave him away.
"Who's this Hector?" he asked, his voice filled with bluster.
"Maybe you aren't high enough up the organization to know his name."
His eyes flashed with anger. "I'm his — " He stopped speaking, his face going red beneath his tan as he caught his mistake.
"Tell me how it went down between you and Alfano," he said.
"Who's Alfano?"
"Sam Alfano," he said. "You set him up for the Feds, word is. You and your cop husband."
Connie laughed. "Who told you that? This Alfano person? Who's he?"
"You know; don't lie."
"Alfano? He's a cop? Paul never mentioned him. Is he crooked, like your boy Louie?"
"Who the fuck's Louie? You're just pickin' names outta — "
"Louie Delgado," she interrupted. "The chief of the vice squad at MPD."
This time, his face went pale. "I don't know no Louie Delgado."
"Really?" she asked, smiling at him. "If you don't know him, he must work for Ochoa directly, then. I thought maybe you weren't high enough up to — "
"You don't know shit about me, bitch. I'm the honcho. Delgado worked for me for years, not for this Ochoa, whoever he is."
"He ever steal money from you?"
"What? What're you talking about? He never stole nothin' from me. I'd a killed the greasy little shit."
"So he was acting on your orders? That was your money we took?"
"What the hell money are you — "
"Oh, come on, Pratt. This is getting tiresome. We need to cut to the chase, here, before my people show up. If we don't have some understanding by then, you're going to be answering to Ochoa for a lot more than the half million we took away from that dumb bastard Delgado."
"Half a million? What half a million?"
"The half a million your little puppet put in seven different bank accounts in my husband's name."
"What do you know about that?"
"My people took it. We consider it a kind of down payment."
"Down — " Pratt was interrupted by the chiming of the intercom on his desk. He pressed the button down and barked, "What?"
"Monique just called. Diamantista II is leaving the anchorage."
"Yeah, Semmes. I know that. Now don't bother me."
"What kinda down payment?" Pratt frowned at her.
"It's more like earnest money; evidence of good faith, maybe." Connie smiled again. "We really should get down to business, Pratt. There's still time. Let's talk about Alfano. Or would you rather talk about Greco? Or Giannetti, maybe."
"Who?" Pratt asked.
"I know they were above your pay grade, but you must recognize the names. How about Murano?"
"The snitch? He got his."
She smiled. "Think he was a snitch?"
"I think you're some kind of fuckin' cop."
"That what Alfano said?"
"You're just droppin' names you read in the papers."
She smiled and shook her head. "Whatever you say, Pratt. It's your ass on the line. You're the one who brought up Alfano's name, anyway."
"You sent them away. You gotta be a cop," Pratt said.
"Could be, I guess. Or it could be that we just needed them out of the way. You know, like we set them up to cover our tracks, the way Delgado was trying to do with Paul."
"Yeah? So if you're workin' for the Mexicans, how is it you're married to Russo, the straightest cop in Miami?"
"I didn't say I was working for the Mexicans. What are you talking about?"
"Alfano said you were."
"Stupid man. He never could keep his mouth shut. That's why he's inside." Connie shook her head. "Who'd he tell about me? We're going to have to shut him up permanently, after all, I guess."
"No, he didn't give you away." Pratt said. "It was Ochoa's lawyer that he told; you're safe. But what's the deal with you and Russo?"
"Sort of like with your boss and Delgado; just a different arrangement."
"So Russo's bent, then?"
"I didn't say that. A husband talks to his wife, you know. Sometimes, if he's a smart man, he listens to her, too." Connie smiled. "It's a much better arrangement than just paying some crooked cop, don't you think? Having an honest cop under our control?"
He studied her for a minute, chewing at the inside of his cheek.
"What kind of deal are you talkin' about?" he asked, breaking the silence.
"I missed lunch, Pratt, thanks to you and your stupid thug, Freddy. I don't talk business on an empty stomach."
"I'll order somethin'," he said. "You like fish okay?"
"Yes, and a salad. While you take care of that, I want a shower; all this blood's getting sticky and itchy. I need some clean clothes, too."
"Fair enough. There's a stateroom across the hall. There's a bunch of clothes in the closets, too. Sadie's stuff. You can prob'ly find somethin' to fit. I'll get somebody to show you. And don't try nothin' funny; I'll still kneecap ya."
He pressed down a button on the intercom on his desk and said, "Semmes, get in here, quick, boy."
Chapter 25
"That was Pratt," Paul said, putting his phone away. He looked around at the others as they sat on Phillip's veranda. Sharktooth had left his boat in the marina and taken a taxi to Phillip's. "He's got Connie. He says he wants to trade for you." He nodded at Sadie. "I'm supposed to up anchor and head for Diamond Rock."
"I'm so sorry," Sadie said. "I'll go."
"No, there's no way that's going to help, Sadie. Thanks, but his only option at his point is to eliminate me and Connie. Probably you, too. No point in making it easy for him."
"But what about Connie? He'll — "
"He's using her for bait right now. She's probably okay for the moment; he hinted that he'd put her on the phone later. We need to let him think we're following his instructions while we mount a rescue. You haven't said, Phillip, but did you and Sharktooth find Morning Mist earlier?"
"No, he's on the move. For what it's worth, they're still cleared in with St. Lucia customs. They left the anchorage in Rodney Bay this morning, though."
"Still no luck on the tracker?" Paul asked
"No," Sharktooth said. "The website says they've got server problems. I shouldn't have used a commercial one."
"Clarence has an alert out," Phillip said. "He's got a chopper standing by. I'm going to call him back and put them to work on Connie's phone. They can't be too far away if they've got cell service. If you agree, let's see if he can get Marie LaCroix and one of her men to move Diamantista II to Diamond Rock. I think she's back from her last assignment. They can be disguised to look like you and Sadie, at least from a distance. That leaves you freedom of movement."
"Do it," Paul said.
"I hope they didn't ... " Sadie was interrupted by the ringing of Phillip's cellphone.
"Dav
is," Phillip answered, nodding as he listened for almost two minutes. "Okay. Thanks, Clarence." He told Clarence about the call from Connie's cellphone and their plan to use two of Clarence's operatives to move Diamantista II. "That's great," Phillip said. "Thanks Clarence. Look forward to hearing from you about the phone. If Marie needs any help getting the boat going, tell her to call us." He disconnected and turned back to address the others.
"Preliminaries from the forensics team. The blood type is not Connie's." He paused as Paul gave an audible sigh, and then resumed. "The bullet they recovered was fired from a .40 caliber handgun, probably a Glock. They recovered a shell casing that matched, with an unknown print on it. Prints in the bloodstain on the deck were a match for Freddy Thompson; they got a set of his from Antigua."
"Wait," Sadie said. "How can that be? I thought they arrested him for Tom's murder."
"Their witness changed his story," Phillip said. "He said he was mistaken; it wasn't Freddy that was asking about Tom. They had to let him go. There was some political pressure, too, apparently. One last point — Connie was most likely the one who used the knife. They don't have exemplars for her prints, but the size of the hand print says female."
"Putting the pieces together, then," Paul said, "it sounds like she cut Freddy and somebody else fired a shot to stop her."
"That's what Clarence's people think," Phillip said.
Several seconds passed before Sadie broke the silence, asking, "Who's this Clarence person? Is he a policeman?"
"No, not exactly," Phillip said, "although he sometimes does contract work for government agencies. He has access to a lot of information because of that."
"Did you hire him, then?" she asked, looking at Paul.
"He doesn't work for plain old people like us," Paul said. "Only for governments, and he's selective about them."
"Then why is he doing this?" Sadie asked.
Paul and Phillip exchanged glances, and Phillip nodded and said, "He's an old friend. He and Sharktooth and I go way back. We still help one another from time to time."
****
Connie studied her reflection in the full-length mirror. The stateroom on Morning Mist was more like a luxury hotel room than shipboard accommodations. She wore a pair of calf length linen pants and an oversized polo shirt, the least flashy clothes that she'd found in the lockers. The shower had been refreshing, but her real motive had been to get away from Pratt long enough to collect her thoughts. She reviewed their conversation and decided that she'd done all right; she'd tricked him into giving away enough information so that she'd been able to skew his perception of who she was.
Running Under Sail Page 18