Rising Storm: A Jesse McDermitt Novel (Caribbean Adventure Series Book 11)

by Wayne Stinnett

  A buddy of mine from high school had enlisted in the Army, about the same time that I’d gone off to boot camp at Parris Island. He’d eventually retired from a base in southern Arizona.

  “Fort Huachuca?” I asked.

  Nodding, Chyrel continued. “Two years ago, and twice since then. Carmichael had been stationed there for six months. The time coincided with one of Huggins’s hollow-looking spots in his SRB. I did some more digging and found that Captain Huggins had spent four days at Fort Huachuca, during the period that Sergeant Carmichael was there.”

  “Any indication that they crossed paths, or knew each other?” Paul asked. “Carmichael and Huggins, I mean. And how big is the base?”

  Chyrel typed on the keyboard and a website opened on another screen. “Fort Huachuca covers one-hundred-eighteen square miles, a pretty big area, as military bases go.” She looked up at me and added, “Almost as big as your Camp Lejeune.”

  “Lejeune,” I corrected her, pronouncing the name of the thirteenth Commandant of the Marine Corps correctly, with an r sound in place of june.

  Chyrel continued. “It’s home to Army Intelligence Center and a few other commands, with over seventy-five hundred active-duty soldiers stationed there. During business hours, there are more than eighteen thousand people working at the base. It’s one of the busiest Army posts in the world, smack dab in the middle of nowhere, fifteen miles from the Mexican border.”

  “It’s a busy base for sure,” Charity said. “During helicopter flight training, we flew there regularly from Fort Rucker in Alabama. Our crews would train in the mountains and fly back at the end of the week. We were told not to look people in the eye while we were there, because some of the people we’d see weren’t really there. The base is also home to the 111th Military Intelligence Brigade.”

  “I didn’t find anything to indicate that Huggins and Carmichael had ever met,” Chyrel said to Paul. “But it’s a big, busy base.”

  “Okay, so Huggins was a spook,” I said. “What about Carmichael? Why was he stationed at a military intelligence base if he was a combat engineer?”

  “It wouldn’t be unusual,” Charity said. “If he would be working in Central and South America, he’d need to learn Spanish, and Huachuca has a very good linguistics school, particularly Spanish.”

  “Where are Carmichael and Cruz now?” I asked.

  “Same as yesterday,” Chyrel replied. “Out by the pool and already drinking.”

  “We just managed to get a permanent device inside the room,” Tony told me. “When they went down to the pool an hour ago, we waited until the maid arrived to clean the room and Paul just walked in and told her he forgot to plug in his charger. Chyrel got these cool new bugs in the shape of a standard electrical outlet. They get power directly from a wall outlet, and you can plug stuff in just like a real one. He unplugged the laptop, slipped the fake outlet cover over the real one, and plugged the computer back in.”

  “How’d you know he had electronics that needed charging?” Charity asked.

  “That was something I heard yesterday on the battery-powered device,” Paul said, glancing up at me. “I didn’t think it germane and excluded that part from the highlights we listened to yesterday. Carmichael has a laptop computer.”

  “Good to know,” I said, then turned toward Chyrel. “I don’t suppose that bug can access his computer, can it.”

  “Unfortunately, no,” she replied, “but that’s not really a problem. I can get into the hotel’s internet server easy enough, and pull up anything he looks at on the web.”

  “Deuce said you came up with a plan?”

  After Chyrel outlined her ideas, I smiled, and reached into my pocket. “I might have something that’ll cement his interest.”

  I pulled out the handkerchief with the gem rolled up inside and carefully unfolded it. The emerald wasn’t huge, but it would look ridiculously large as a ring on a lady’s hand. It was an eight-sided rectangle, faceted all the way around a flat top surface. The top reflected the overhead lights in the van, and also gathered the light, reflecting it through the many faceted sides of the bright green stone.

  “This was part of the emeralds Carmichael stole,” I said. “He dropped it.”

  Everyone’s eyes widened. “What’s a rock like that cost?” Chyrel asked.

  “It’s over ten carats,” I replied. “Five digits, easy.”

  I went on to explain the history of the cache of emeralds, as told to Charity and me by Buck Reilly, and all I knew about Dan and Amy Huggins, their house, and the broken concrete cache.

  “A whole chest of stones like that?” Andrew asked, amazed. “How big was the chest?”

  “I didn’t see it,” I replied. “Nor did the widow. But the concrete wasn’t hardened when Huggins put the chest in the post. The imprint it left in the concrete was a good eight inches by six, and the vertical room inside the busted post was about a foot. So roughly the size of an old school lunch box.”

  “Something that large could hold what?” Deuce asked. “A couple thousand of those?”

  “Probably not,” I replied, putting the emerald back in my pocket. “I doubt they were stacked neatly; maybe half that. Legend has it there were more than five hundred, though.”

  Tony whistled softly. “Five million dollars?”

  “Too many people would lay claim,” I said. “The only way they could be sold would be on the black market, probably at half their worth. They were mined seven hundred years ago, using slave labor. The Conquistadors stole them from the Aztecs, and they’ve been stolen, sold, lost, found, and stolen again, many times over. I know someone who can sell them in a week for a million. Over a year’s time, maybe two million.”

  “Okay,” Charity said. “If they’re all identical, this Carmichael guy will be real curious if he sees one. He’d definitely go to check his stash.”

  “Uh-oh,” Chyrel said, turning toward her computer.

  “What?” Deuce asked, stepping over to her side.

  “Gimme a sec,” she replied, fingers tapping on the screen. Finally, she stopped and leaned back in her chair. “Carmichael flew to Grand Cayman four days ago.”

  “Shit, that’s right,” Tony muttered. “Remember, Jesse? He told me he’d been to the Caymans. He’s probably sold them.”

  “Or has them in a Cayman bank’s safe deposit box,” I said. “My source tells me that they’re too easily recognized to sell all at once.”

  “He’s sold at least a few,” Chyrel said. “His finances don’t indicate enough money to buy a big boat and have it quickly refitted.”

  “Then we get him to see the one I have,” I said, patting my pocket. “I’m with Charity, he’ll want to go check his stash personally, wherever it is. All we have to do is follow him and take them back.”

  “To Grand Cayman,” Deuce said.

  “If that’s what it takes.”

  “What if he gets there ahead of us? Or there’s just no opportunity to make the grab? If it’s in a bank, we can’t do it there.”

  “If we can’t get them back when he goes to check on them, he’ll know that none of his are missing. He’ll be curious at first; he’ll want to know where mine came from. There were two chests of emeralds in that shipment to Spain, plus all the other stuff. It’s all still on display at the anthropology museum in Mexico City.”

  “Curiosity begets greed,” Chyrel said with a smile.

  “If we can’t get them away from him,” I said. “We’ll get him to bring them to us somehow.”

  “So how are you going to get him to see the stone?” Charity asked. “And in a way that he doesn’t suspect is intentional?”

  I teetered back, rocking unsteadily on my heels. “Drunks talk about and do all kinds of things they shouldn’t,” I slurred.

  Charity picked up my sunglasses from the desk where I’d placed them when we first got in the van, and handed them to me. “Better make sure you wear these. Those piercing baby-blues of yours don’t look very hammered.
”

  Walking into the bar alone, I asked the bartender for a Coke on ice, paid him, and gulped down half of it. I then proceeded out the side door onto the deck, putting my sunglasses on against the bright glare.

  Carmichael was sitting in the shade of the Tiki bar, with Cruz and another young woman sitting close by. I angled around the pool, bumping an occasional deck chair, and weaving slightly.

  I’m taller than a lot of men and try to stay fit. But with the right clothes, baggy and loose the way I like, a bit of a slouch in my shoulders, and the occasional clumsiness to my movements, I can appear to be an ungainly oaf. Very non-threatening.

  When I approached the Tiki bar, near where Carmichael was sitting, I drained the rest of the Coke and set the empty glass on the bar a little harder than necessary.

  “Another Captain and Coke,” I said loudly, with just a little slur in my voice.

  When the bartender brought my drink, I neglected to pay for it and walked over to a chair in the shade, directly in front of Carmichael. I wanted the bartender to come to me while I was sitting, to get the money for the drink. I settled into the chair, took a sip from the drink, and stretched out to wait.

  “Excuse me, sir,” a voice said near my shoulder.

  Opening my eyes, I turned my head. The bartender was standing next to me.

  “You forgot to pay for your drink, sir. Would you like me to put it on your room tab?”

  I hadn’t even thought of that. A chance to kill two birds with one stone. “Yeah,” I replied, gruffly. “Room nine-fifteen. Buchannan.” He turned and started back to the bar. “Wait,” I called after him, fishing into my pocket for my money clip. I peeled off a ten and handed it to the bartender. “A little stronger next time, huh?”

  He smiled and took the bill. “Of course, Mister Buchannan.”

  As the bartender left, I saw both Carmichael and Cruz watching me. A woman in a bikini walked past my chair and I let my eyes stray after her, as I put the money clip back into my pocket.

  Pulling my hand out, I made sure the handkerchief with the emerald came with it. The handkerchief unrolled as it fell onto the deck and the bright green stone rolled free, just as I’d hoped it would. I quickly scooped both up with my left hand and stuffed them back into my pocket.

  “Smooth,” I heard Paul say over my earwig. He’d preceded me to the deck and was sitting at the far side of the bar, watching. Then he chuckled softly. “He bit. And her eyes nearly bugged out of her head.”

  I continued to avoid looking in Carmichael’s direction and leaned my head back in the chair, once more closing my eyes. It was noon and the sun was directly overhead. I was over-dressed for the pool, in jeans and a denim shirt. But the air was cool, so I wasn’t uncomfortable.

  “Excuse me,” a woman said, from somewhere near my feet. “Aren’t you with Ginger?”

  I opened my eyes to see Rosana Cruz standing in front of me. I smiled the smile of the drunk womanizer as I lowered my sunglasses and looked at her from head to toe. “You know Ginger?”

  “I met her yesterday,” Cruz lied. “Here at the pool. Then you came and picked her up. Are the two of you staying here, too?”

  “For a few days,” I said, putting my shades back on and nodding at the seat next to me. “We were planning to go cruising with a friend of hers, but the guy’s boat is broke down. We were gonna go to the Bahamas early next week and spend a month there. Not sure if it’s gonna happen now.”

  “That’s a shame,” Cruz said, sitting on the edge of the chair next to me and putting a hand on my knee. “Me and a bunch of friends are going to the Bahamas, too. If your plans don’t work out, maybe you could join us?”

  Looking over at her, I took another sip of the watered-down tourist rum, and spoke with a drunk’s long-winded slur. “I kinda doubt it. This whole thing was Ginger’s idea. A pirate treasure hunt. I’d just as soon get back to the farm in Illinois. Snow’s forecast next week, and I don’t completely trust my foreman to make sure all the livestock gets fed and stays warm if I ain’t there.”

  “A treasure hunt?” Cruz said, feigning excitement, but the dollar signs etched deeply into her dark brown eyes were real. “Ooh, that sounds exciting.”

  “Meh,” I said, looking back up at the clear, blue sky, and continuing the drunk monologue. “It’s all a put-on. Some rich dude she went to college with does it every year. Hides treasure around some island in the Bahamas where nobody ever visits, then brings a boatload of treasure hunters to find it all again. There’s a reason nobody’s on those islands. It’s hot and there ain’t nothing on ’em but palm trees. The stones are real enough, though. We found one out on one of the little islands on the other side of the bay yesterday. It might cover the cost of this trip—but dammit, I gotta work. She thinks just ’cause it’s gettin’ into winter and the harvest is over, there ain’t no work to do on a farm.”

  Sitting up, I looked at Cruz. “Say, I don’t even know your name?”

  “Rosana,” she said, extending her hand. “I am Panamanian.”

  I took her hand and smiled, “My friends just call me Stretch.”

  “Very nice to meet you, Stretch.”

  Asking Cruz’s name was the cue. My meeting her was to be short and sweet, just enough to incite greed and the doubt that Carmichael’s stash was intact. The door to the bar opened and Chyrel stepped out. She’d changed into a skin-tight off-the-shoulder white dress, and a big, floppy red-and-white hat. Her red heels clicked on the concrete deck as she came toward us.

  “We’re supposed to go out on the boat again,” Chyrel said, when she stopped in front of me, completely ignoring Cruz. “It’s leaving in thirty minutes. Why are you drinking already?”

  I squinted up at her. “The little boat in the bay, or the big one bound for the Bahamas?”

  Chyrel moved around my chair, crowding Cruz and getting between us. “The yacht won’t be ready for a month. Teddy’s taking the gang out to the same island on two speedboats, for an even bigger blowout than yesterday.”

  The disappointment on Cruz’s face was as transparent as the wind.

  I rose clumsily from my chair. “It might be an island, but it’s an island in Miami.”

  “Then we’ll come back down again, next month when the yacht’s ready,” Chyrel said.

  “I would like to see the Bahamas, Ginger,” I said, pulling her close in a drunken grasp, “but I can’t take that much time offa work.”

  Chyrel wiggled free and stepped back. “You own half the county, Stretch, and you’re the wealthiest man in southern Illinois. You can hire people to do all that. I wanna have fun.”

  Chyrel grabbed my hand and dragged me toward the door to the bar like an errant child. I glanced back at Cruz and smiled, shrugging my shoulders.

  Hustling through the bar and into the lobby, I pulled Chyrel aside and looked through the bar and out onto the pool deck. The dark windows prevented anyone seeing inside, but I could easily see Cruz sitting back down next to Carmichael.

  “Wish I could have planted a bug,” I said. “I’d love to know what they’re saying.”

  Paul’s voice came over my earwig. “They’re planning something,” he said. “Carmichael is pretty wound up.”

  “Give it another minute,” Deuce said. “Then Chyrel, you come out here to the van. We’re only getting bits and pieces on the parabolic mic, too much background noise around the pool.”

  Chyrel rolled her eyes. Deuce, Tony, and Andrew were good men to have beside you in a fight, but Chyrel was the tech genius. “Go,” I told her. “We need ears out there.”

  She left me in the lobby and hurried out to the waiting tactical van. I gave it another minute, then ambled through the bar, dumping the contents of my drink in a small water feature on the way. In the bar, I ordered another Coke and proceeded back out onto the pool deck.

  Cruz saw me coming and rose from where she was sitting with Carmichael as I walked around the pool. I drank down half the Coke, pretending to look around for her.
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  Cruz walked seductively toward me. “I thought you were going boating,” she said with a mischievous grin.

  Smiling drunkenly, I said, “She went on without me. I came here to take a boat to the Bahamas, not an island in the bay.”

  She took my hand, and led me toward the chairs we were occupying earlier. “Do you know anything about boating?”

  “Bass boats, sure. Ginger’s friend’s boat is a big sailing yacht, though.”

  With one hand in my pocket, I thumbed the backing off one of the audio devices. When we reached the two lounge chairs, I took the bug from my pocket, and out of sight of Carmichael, put my hand on Cruz’s shoulder, guiding her to the chair. The bug would stick to just about anything, including a wet bikini strap. It was very small and her hair covered it. The battery would only last an hour and the adhesive would dissolve after six hours, letting the bug fall off wherever it was. We sat down once more.

  “You’re getting good at that,” I heard Chyrel’s voice say over the comm. “I deactivated it remotely. The para-mic is working fine and we can reactivate the bug later.”

  “You are not worried Ginger will find someone else to spend time with?” Cruz asked. “She’s a beautiful woman.”

  I gave her a lecherous grin. “We have an arrangement,” I said, winking. “At the end of the day, we sleep in the same bed. What we do before that is just fuel for the fire.”

  “Well, the invitation is still open,” she said. “My boyfriend owns the boat, and it’s plenty big enough for a lot more people.”

  I reached up and pulled my shades down my nose slightly, looking across them at Cruz. “Boyfriend?”

  “Yes, he’s having some work done on his boat now. It should be ready by Monday.”

  “Your boyfriend knows you’re inviting strange men on his boat?”

  She smiled and twirled her raven hair. “We have an arrangement, too, Stretch. Would you like to meet him?”