Rene tucked his pistol back in his pocket and followed Charity to the back of the Huey, both of them examining everything they could see. On the right side, Charity found oil seeping down from the cowling and turned to Napier. “I need a ladder.”
“I don’t,” the big man replied, going down on one knee beside the helicopter, “so I ain’t got one. Put your hands against the aircraft and step up onto my shoulders.”
With Rene’s help, she managed to climb up on the big man’s back. Precariously balanced on his shoulders, Charity walked her hands up the side as Napier stood up.
There were two bullet holes in the cowling, invisible from the ground. From a pouch on her belt, Charity took out a Snoopy tool and turned the Dzus locks holding the cowling in place and handed it down to Rene. Using her pen light, she looked closely at the high-pressure oil line that had been repaired at Gitmo. Seeing no seepage there, she checked the rest of the lines.
“Dammit! One of the bullets nicked a low-pressure oil line.”
“What size is it?” Thurman asked.
Charity leaned in to look closer at the writing on the rubber hose. “Three-eighths, ID.”
“Got some in the hangar, Rambo,” Napier said to Rene. “Far side, over the work bench.”
The woman had wandered over to the side of the house and returned wearing a bikini top, which didn’t really hide much more than she was baring earlier.
“How long?” Rene asked. “And what do you need to remove the damaged one?”
Before Charity could answer, Napier said, “Low pressure hoses only have a tension-clamp. There’s a pair of pliers on the workbench.”
“About a foot long,” Charity said.
The repair only took a couple of minutes, and Thurman even had the right kind of oil on hand to top off the oil reservoir. Once Charity had the cowling back in place, Napier again went down to one knee and she dropped lightly to the ground.
“Thanks,” she said to the giant, and turned toward the small woman. “Can you give us a moment?”
Thurman looked at the woman and nodded toward the hangar. “There’s a can of black spray paint on the top shelf of the locker beside the workbench, Jade. Just below that is a can of milled fiberglass and resin. Can you bring those to me?”
The woman trotted after Rene, who was already halfway to the hangar, returning the pliers. Once they were out of earshot, Charity said to Napier, “I want to move up the schedule. You have any trouble running me upriver at night?”
“Most nights? No,” he replied, scratching his bearded face. “No moon tonight, though.”
“I have night-vision optics.”
“I don’t know,” he said.
Charity sensed his reluctance to do it at all. “Come on, big guy,” she said, knowing that money wouldn’t be the enticement he needed. “It’ll be a thrill.”
“It flew very slowly along the south side of the wall,” Erik Wirth told Beisch, when the boat returned an hour after leaving.
The babo turned to Karl. “This is a problem. What do you think they were doing here?”
“Reconnaissance,” Karl replied. “I know I hit it. That is not an ordinary helicopter.”
Beisch thought for a moment. “Send one man back to the settlement in the boat. Tell him to bring two more men with rifles immediately. Have all your security people but two come here on foot and plan to stay for a while.” Then he turned to Wirth, as Karl went back to the boat. “Continue working to clear the field. If the helicopter dropped men off at one of the farms, it will take them at least until sunset to get here. Keeping that field clear allows the wächters to see anything or anyone approaching.”
Wirth passed the orders to his men, and they filed back through the door to the other side of the wall. Karl and Rolph returned, as David Hoffman roared off in the boat. Pointing to the furthest lookout platform, Karl said, “Take the other one, Rolph. We will leave the farmer in this one for now.” To Beisch he added, “In a few minutes, I will have my men in both stands, and three more in the tree line beyond the wall. They will be able to hear anything approaching the clearing from the jungle.”
“Do you think we are in danger?” Wirth asked the babo. “My workers all have guns in their homes, and if there will be trouble, I would like to send the women and children to the settlement.”
“There is no danger now,” Beisch replied. “Karl is just being overly cautious.” Looking up and down the wall, he added, “When it starts to get dark, bring the men back over here and retire for the night. But get that field as clear as possible before then. Karl’s men will double up on the watch tonight and the rest of them will camp by the door.”
Minutes later, the boat returned with David Kohler and two more of Karl’s security team. Karl went through the door with them, pointing and assigning positions. When he returned, he said to the babo, “I will relieve the farmer in this tower. Four of my men will be here in the ATV shortly and the rest should be here in an hour. We will make camp here and the night watchmen will join us at sunset.” Wanting to be rid of the babo and take charge personally, he added, “That leaves only two of my team at the settlement. They will be at the main house, awaiting your orders.”
“Very good,” Beisch replied. “I will return in the boat and send runners out to inform the settlement to be vigilant.”
“We will need our radios,” Karl said. “Relying on runners to carry messages from the towers to the camp will take too long.”
“Does either of the men at the main house know how to operate the boat?”
“Yes, both do,” Karl replied, knowing exactly what the babo wanted him to do. “If you will let either man know, he can bring the radios to me in the boat and then return to the main house.”
“I am relying on you, Karl.”
Beisch then turned to Wirth. “Keep your men working, Herr Wirth. Karl has everything under control and will order your men out of the field if there is any trouble.”
Karl grinned as the babo turned and went down toward the boat. “Join your men, Wirth. I will make sure nothing happens here.”
Erik scowled at the younger man, jabbing a thick finger at his shoulder. “You just keep your eyes open. Leave the real work to real men.” Without waiting for a reply, Erik hefted his big, double-bladed axe to his shoulder and disappeared through the door.
Karl looked around for Jenifer and saw her turning into the rows of corn. He trotted quickly after her and called out her name. When she turned, he said, “There is nothing to worry about. I will make sure that no harm comes.”
“I know,” she replied. “But you do not have to be mean to my father.” She stepped through the corn row and disappeared.
Karl went back to the wall, slung his rifle on his shoulder, and called out to the farmer in the tower. “Come down and go help the others. I will take over.”
Under the small roof of the lookout platform, Karl had a clear view of the field and the men working. He waved at Rolph in the other tower, getting his attention. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “The radios will be here soon!”
Looking out over the field, he saw David and the other two security men fanning out toward the jungle, their rifles at the ready.
Hearing engine sounds, Karl turned and saw the boat pulling up on shore. He waved at Rudolph Klein, who climbed out of the boat with a large canvas bag.
“Bring one up here,” Karl called down. Though not as good with a rifle as most of his other men, Rudolph was strong and fearless. Perfect for the job of protecting the babo.
When Klein reached the top of the ladder, Karl took the small hand-held radio and pointed across the clearing, explaining where David and the others were. “Take a radio to each of them and one to Rolph in the other tower. Then go back to the main house to protect the babo.”
“Right away,” Klein said, climbing back down. He shouldered the bag and began trudging toward the other tower.
Karl heard the sound of the ATV approaching. “Wait!” he s
houted down. “Help whoever that is in the ATV to unload the gear, then use the machine to deliver the radios.”
Klein and the other four men quickly unloaded the supplies. Then Klein roared off on the ATV, leaving the others to begin setting up the camp. Karl watched and checked in with each of his men as the radios were delivered, explaining the situation. Fifteen minutes later, Klein returned, parked the ATV and went back to the boat.
Karl keyed the talk button on the radio and said, “David, this is Karl. You three stay quiet and out of sight over there. Report anything out of the ordinary that you see or hear in the jungle.”
“We will,” Hoffman replied. “How long will we be out here?”
“A few hours,” Karl said. “At dusk, I will call you back here and we will set up double watches in the towers.”
Karl watched the tree line and the men working in the field, occasionally shouting down at them, directing the clearing operation. Wirth swung his big axe, taking down small trees with a single blow.
As the sun neared the tops of the jungle canopy to the west, Karl saw the rest of his men coming out of the tree line where the farmers’ houses were. Satisfied with the work the men in the field had done, he yelled down, “Wirth, leave three men to tend the fires and the rest can break for supper.”
Erik yelled to his workmen, ordering three of them to keep moving debris to the fires and the rest to go home to eat. Shouldering his axe, he went to the door in the wall. There he leaned his axe against the wall and took up the hunting rifle the man who had been in the tower had left.
The last of the debris in the field was tossed onto the fires well before darkness set in. Wirth remained by the door until the men were finished, and then ordered them to go eat. As the sun neared the horizon at the northwest end of the crop field, it lengthened the shadow cast from the wall. The two regular night watchmen arrived, and Karl and Rolph left them to the stands to join the rest of the men at the makeshift camp, where food was being prepared.
“Do you really think that helicopter dropped men off at the farms?” one of the men asked while they all ate around a camp fire.
“I told the babo we should go to the farms and see,” Karl replied. “But he thought it too dangerous.”
“So we do not know if or how many?” Rolph asked.
“Does not matter. They would have to come through the jungle, cross the field, and then get over the wall. With all twenty of us here, that will never happen.”
After eating, Karl assigned a two-hour watch schedule, with two men in each tower and two more on guard at the door at all times. He assigned himself and Rolph the first watch in the towers, but didn’t feel any trouble would come for a few hours, if at all.
The two regular wächters were fresh, having slept through most of the day, so Karl planned to keep them in the towers throughout the night, which was normal for them. That way, the whole camp wouldn’t be alerted by some sound in the jungle that happened ordinarily. In the morning, he would reduce the watch to just one man in each tower.
Just after dark, Wirth came out to the camp. “I do not like the idea of our women and children remaining if trouble is coming.”
Karl studied the man’s face in the flickering firelight. Half a head taller than Karl, the farmer was big, as big men went. His work had built muscle on muscle and callus on callus, and he probably outweighed Karl by nearly twenty kilos.
“Are you afraid of the dark, old man?” Karl chided.
Erik looked down at him with an icy stare. “There are things out there in the night that you should be afraid of. Only kinder fear the darkness. My concern is that one of you idioten might shoot in the wrong direction when a tapir comes into the clearing.”
“Watch your mouth, old man,” Karl said, noticing that several of his men had tensed at the slur, and the others were watching his own reaction. “Go back to your home.” Then, turning the man’s own words against him, Karl added, “Let the real men protect you.”
Wirth looked at the men around the fire, seeing that several were primed for a fight right then and there. “Ha! I can take any three of you kinder at once. Stay away from our homes, if you know what is good for you.” Turning his back on the men around the fire, Erik stalked off, muttering to himself and shaking his head.
Waiting until Wirth had disappeared through the tall corn, Karl said, “Everyone get some rest. You all know who to awaken when it is time to be relieved.”
Charity woke when the alarm on her watch went off. It was an hour before midnight, and she’d had a solid seven hours of sleep after repairing the bullet holes and flying back to the airport. Napier had been reluctant to go in at night, saying that the sound of the big engines would wake the dead.
The big man apparently hadn’t read the entire operator’s manual, and Charity showed him how to muffle the engines. The black hull would be nearly invisible in the darkness and the only sound while idling would be a slight bow wave from the twin hulls. That little detail had sealed the deal for Napier and he’d promised to meet her at a little used dock south of Port of Spain at midnight.
Rene had been mostly quiet during the short flight and the ride back to the hotel on his scooter. In the elevator, he’d waited until she pressed the button for her floor and had then punched the button for his own.
Charity hadn’t been disappointed. The last thing she needed was to spend half the night bouncing around on the bed with the man. It was time to go to work. Before the elevator reached her floor, her mind had moved on to tactical mode. She’d simply said goodbye, and stepped out, walking quickly down the hall to her room, without looking back.
It’s for the best, she thought, as she dressed in loose-fitting black cargo pants and a black tank top. Her choice of clothing wouldn’t be unusual in a town where tourists partied all night.
She’d stowed anything else she thought she’d need on the boat before leaving Napier’s little airfield. She shouldered her bag and took one last look around the room to make sure she hadn’t left anything. On the balcony, she was amazed at the number of stars visible, almost like being out on the water.
Outside, Devon was already waiting, parked away from the other cab drivers, but leaning against a friend’s cab talking to the driver. He pushed away from the car when Charity approached.
“Heah at eleven, jest like yuh ask, Miss.”
“Thanks for being punctual, Devon,” Charity replied.
He opened the door of his cab for her and she got in the backseat, as he trotted around to the driver’s door. The inside of the cab smelled like marijuana smoke.
“Where to, Miss?” Devon asked, as he drove through the parking lot toward the entrance.
“Do you know the deep water marina in Brickfield?”
The man looked at her in his mirror, frowning. “A dangerous place, more so at night.”
“I’m meeting a boat there,” Charity replied.
Devon shrugged and turned right, heading for the outskirts of town. “It will take thirty or forty minutes. It is on di other side of Caroni Swamp.”
The drive took forty-five minutes, and Charity spent the time reading the target’s file again on her tablet. The lack of information on the leader was troubling, but she at least knew what he looked like now.
When the cab came to a stop, Charity looked out. The small parking lot was deserted. A single light pole did very little to illuminate the lot, much less the shadows around the edge of the lot. A few lights on the pier itself revealed not a single boat tied up there.
Where the hell is that one-eyed freak? Charity thought, opening the door and getting out.
“Wait here just a minute, Devon,” Charity said, as she looked out over the water. In the distance, she heard a throaty engine start, followed quickly by a second. She handed Devon the fare, with a generous tip. “Thanks, I’ll call you again in a day or so to pick me up here.”
Looking around nervously, Devon thanked her, put the car in gear, and drove away. Charity waited in the darkne
ss, straining her eyes seaward. She could hear the engines as the boat accelerated, but couldn’t see any sign of it.
Her hand gripped the Sig inside her bag as she moved toward the dock, still unsure if the boat she was hearing was Napier or just some commercial fisherman.
The low lights on the pier were mounted on top of the rails, and only illuminated the foot of the pier itself. Once she passed them, she could just make out the bow waves of an approaching twin-hulled boat.
It slowed as it neared the pier, and Charity recognized the shape of the hull and T-top. The boat had no lights on, not even the glow from the gauges. Finally, the hulking shape of the man behind the wheel materialized.
“I was beginning to wonder if you’d chickened out,” Charity called out as the boat reached the pier.
“Keep your voice down. This is a place for smugglers and pirates.”
You should feel right at home, she thought, reaching out to fend the boat away as Napier reversed the engines.
She stepped quickly aboard, and Napier maneuvered the boat with the throttles, turning it around in a tight turn. Once they were away from the pier, he brought the throttles up and the boat accelerated, planing quickly.
“Smugglers and pirates?”
“Yeah,” Thurman grunted. “Drug runners and slavers mostly, but anything that’s not legal usually comes in or leaves here.”
He pushed the throttles more, and the boat increased speed, turning southwest and leaving the dimly lit smuggler’s cove behind.
Charity thought it a little ironic that Napier was wearing the night vision headset with two eye-pieces, but a single lens. Leaning over, she opened the small compartment in the side of the console. Feeling around inside, she found the case containing the other set, turned it on, and pulled it over her face.
The night vision optics in the headset gathered available light and intensified it. While she could see clearly in the dark, everything appeared gray-green, depth perception was limited, and peripheral vision was lost beyond the forty-degree capability of the system. The one Charity wore had an added feature, only recently developed in England: she could change from night optics to thermal imaging with the flip of a switch.
Ruthless Charity: A Charity Styles Novel (Caribbean Thriller Series Book 2) Page 16