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

by Wayne Stinnett

  “What do you want to do?” Julie asked.

  “Tony and Andrew will leave ahead of us,” I replied. “Head offshore through Cape Florida Channel and watch from outside, pacing us in the bay. We’ll have our earwigs on, and they’ll be able to see us on radar. I’ll try to get him to tell me which cut, and if he doesn’t, the Revenge has the advantage of speed and draft. As he’s navigating through the cut, bring her in fast. With luck, his boat will be beached in the shallows and, in the confusion, Charity and I can take care of the two of them.”

  “What about the other two?” Deuce asked.

  “I think that, in the end, we’ll find out that they’re victims,” Paul interjected. “Not complicit co-conspirators.”

  “That’s the feeling I got,” I added. “Chyrel can make sure the other two women stay out of the way.”

  Tony sat forward in the backseat. “If he searches you and finds guns, the jig’s up.”

  “Same with communication,” Charity said. “If the wind blows someone’s hair, they could be seen.”

  I thought it over for a moment. “We’ll have to go in unarmed and without the earwigs. We have plenty of bugs, I can put three under my shirt lapel and Paul can remotely activate one every hour as the batteries die. Plus we’ll have our phones.”

  There was silence for a few seconds. Finally, Deuce said, “going unarmed is a personal call for each of you.”

  “I’m in,” Charity said, without hesitation.

  “Chyrel,” Andrew cautioned. “You’re not a field agent.”

  “I can take care of myself,” she replied. “I’m in.”

  Carmichael was looking at his phone. “Be ready to forward his call, Chyrel,” I said.

  “Coming in now,” she said. “Transferring.”

  When my phone chirped, I tapped the Accept button. “Whilson?”

  “Yeah,” he replied. “What’s the word? Are we leaving today, or hanging around the hotel tonight?”

  “I don’t like moving things up,” Deuce said, when we got in the van with the others, parked across from the hotel. Chyrel and Charity had joined them, as well.

  Bending, I gave Julie a hug. Chyrel was sitting on a little folding stool next to her, with Paul crowded in on the other side, also on a stool.

  “They’re anxious,” Andrew said from the front of the van, where he and Tony had moved to.

  “But we’re holding all the other cards,” I said, pacing the floor in back. “We know they have the emeralds on the boat. We know what they plan to do with the three of us and the two girls. We know we have backup and a speed advantage. And we know they’ve done this before.”

  “What we don’t know is the when, where, and how,” Deuce said. “He could try to take you out with a gaff the minute you step on board.”

  “In the past,” Paul said, lifting one earphone, “the bodies were found miles from where the abductions took place, and the dump sites all have two things in common. Each one was in an open area, miles from anything, where you could see in all directions for a considerable distance. And every victim was shot in the head, including the husband of the one married woman. They’re careful, so I think that for where, it’s safe to rule out the boatyard, or any place even remotely public. They’re also habitual in how they murder, so a fish gaff is probably out, as well. They won’t try to kill Jesse until they’re at least in the middle of the bay, but I would say not until they’re in international waters. And the idea of the Gulf Stream as a method of disposing of the body is very sound.”

  “Those cuts through the Safety Valve change all the time,” Andrew said. “He’ll need someone on the bow to help navigate.”

  “Don’t forget,” Chyrel said. “Jesse already told him that Charity was a boater, too.”

  Paul removed the headphones completely. “Carmichael is bound to know that Charity would be far less cooperative if Jesse is murdered,” he said to Chyrel. Then, turning to the rest of us, he continued. “Cruz and the other woman in the room just left for the boatyard. I wasn’t sure if the second woman was Penny or Jenna, until I saw them leave on the security camera. It was the blonde. I’m certain she, at least, is not in on Cruz’s plan.”

  “He’ll wait until we’re in the Atlantic,” I said. “I’m sure of it. We need to pack.”

  When we arrived at the boatyard a little after eleven, clouds were gathering far to the south. As the land temperature warms throughout the morning hours, it draws air upward, sucking in cool moist air from the ocean. When the two air masses collide, they create isolated thunderstorms common to south Florida this time of year.

  Instead of going through the store, we followed a sign for the docks around the side of the building. I had a bunch of clothes stuffed into a backpack, which I’d gotten from the Revenge. On top of the clothes was a large cigar box, filled with a couple dozen hand-rolled Dominican cigars. Below the cigars was a false bottom, under which I’d stashed my Sig Sauer nine-millimeter handgun.

  I also carried Chyrel and Charity’s two large suitcases, as they preceded me toward the dock. Cruz was sitting on a boat box on the pier next to where Carmichael had docked the boat. Nobody else was in sight.

  “Are we too early?” Charity asked, as she strode confidently toward Cruz.

  “Early is good,” the dark-haired woman replied. “Better to wait for the tide than to be late for the tide.”

  Penny came out of the aft salon hatch and saw us. “Wait till you see the playroom!”

  “Playroom?” Chyrel asked.

  “That’s what Wilson calls it,” Cruz said. “The whole front of the boat is full of mattresses.”

  Charity looked the smaller woman up and down, then did the same with Penny. “Sounds delightful,” she said.

  I knew the look was meant not only to incite Cruz’s lust and make her feel that we were one of them, but that Charity was also examining both women closely for weapons, and estimating their abilities.

  Charity had lived by her wits for the last eighteen months. She’d survived because she was not only tough and resilient, but smart and aware of her surroundings. I had no doubt that in some of the situations she’d encountered, she’d been nice to everyone she’d encountered, but in the back of her mind, she’d been constantly developing and revising a plan to kill everyone in sight if it came to that. I knew, because it was what I would do, and was part of the solo infiltration techniques I’d taught Deuce’s whole team over the last several years.

  “Follow me, Stretch,” Cruz said, mounting the boarding steps next to the boat. “Wilson and Jenna will be back shortly. He’s inside taking care of business, and she’s stuck in traffic.”

  Following Cruz into the salon, she turned and took one of the suitcases from me. “Wilson says to put your things in the VIP cabin.”

  I followed her through the salon and down the narrow steps to the forward berthing area. The workers had done a decent, though obviously rushed, job.

  The sole had been finished and appeared to be mahogany, inlaid with another hardwood, maybe cherry. There was a section on the starboard side that was walled off, just aft the bow. It had a door, so I assumed it was the head Carmichael had mentioned.

  But it was the beds that drew my eye. A wooden frame surrounded three large mattresses on the deck, holding them tightly together, in the shape of an L. Each was covered with light blue sheets. One mattress was in the bow, with room for the door to the head to open, and two aft the head, extending the full beam of the boat. You’d have to walk across a mattress to get to the head. All around the beds were large, dark blue pillows, leaning against the interior planking of the hull. It looked completely decadent, like the set of a cheap porn movie.

  “Playroom, huh?” I teased.

  “And am I looking forward to playing with you three,” Cruz replied, leaning seductively against the stair rail. She was wearing the same black bikini top and cutoff jeans I’d seen her in before. Pushing away from the rail with her hip, she motioned me to follow as she stepped down
into the lower cabin, and turned on a light.

  I followed her down the steps. The deck here was the same mahogany-and-cherry sole as the bow area. A super-sized bed took up nearly the whole stateroom. It was built waist high against the starboard side, leaving only a few feet of room next to it, the whole length of the cabin. Under the bed were six large drawers, stacked two high. The bed was at least eight feet long and would easily sleep three people without touching one another. But I didn’t think that was the intent. Like the playroom, it was done in light blue bedding, with dark blue pillows against the hull and both bulkheads.

  A new ladder went up to a hatch in the overhead. Beyond the ladder, an enclosed area probably contained another head or a large storage closet.

  “What’s in there?” I asked, indicating the door with my chin.

  “A really big shower. Room enough for four.”

  “That’s it?” I asked, tossing one then the other suitcase on the bed, and shrugging out of the backpack.

  “I’m sure it could fit more,” she said, stepping closer. “It might be fun to see just how many.”

  Opening the pack, I took the cigar box out. One of Deuce’s men on his old DHS team had been a retired FBI surveillance guy. He’d always said that hiding things in plain sight often worked better than the best of hiding places.

  “Does Wilson allow smoking on board?” I asked, opening the box, and removing three cigars. I closed the box and put it in the top middle drawer below the bed.

  “Cubanos?” she asked, taking one.

  “Dominican,” I replied. “Cuban cigars are illegal in the States.”

  “That is stupid on the part of the American government,” Cruz said. “Si, smoking cigars is permitted on deck. Anything is permitted below deck.”

  Cruz stepped closer, not that there was a lot of room in the cabin to start with. I could feel the heat from her. She gave off a sexual vibe that was palpable and she was obviously ready, willing, and able.

  “The forward bathroom has a handheld shower, a small sink, and a commode,” she said. “There is a full-sized tub and shower in the aft cabin, plus a small day head next to the navigation desk. There is plenty of room and facilities for everyone.”

  She slowly eased past me, her nipples raking my belly like the tips of two knife blades. She fell against me for a moment as the boat rocked.

  “The big shower,” she said, looking up seductively, “is for when we just get too sweaty, and need to cool off together.”

  We returned to the cockpit and found Wilson and Jenna had returned. He was talking to the four women.

  “Hiya, Stretch,” the man said. “I was just explaining to the ladies what we all need to do to get safely underway. Since you have some boating experience, I’ll need to count on you to help Rosana a little bit. Nothing major, just getting the boat untied and helping guide us through the channel later.”

  “Any way I can help,” I replied. “Gotta say, I love what they did to the front part.”

  “Fo’c’sle,” he corrected me. “Usually the crew quarters are in the front.”

  “Fossil?” I asked, dim-wittedly.

  “No, it’s pronounced foke-sul,” he said, sounding out the word. Then turning to the four women, he showed off his maritime knowledge. “It’s spelled like forecastle, but sailors shortened it to fo’c’sle. In old sailing times, the front of a ship, forward of the foremast, was built up real high, to give archers a place to shoot down on enemy vessels. The older crewmen, no longer agile enough to climb the rigging, lived in the cabins there, handling the foresails and anchors. It’s where the term before the mast comes from, in saying how long a man has been a sailor.”

  “Just tell me what you need done,” I said, as Wilson led the women to the boarding steps and waited until they boarded.

  “Rosana, stand by the bow line,” Carmichael said. “Stretch, go to the back of the boat and untie the line from the dock when I tell you to.” He turned to the other women, leering at them. “The rest of you ladies, I had a big bench seat added forward. Go up there and look hot. Until further notice, the bikini is the uniform of the day, and once we’re in international waters, that’s totally optional.”

  Doing as I was ordered, I waited for him to climb up to the flybridge and start the engines. He spent a few minutes watching the gauges, and switching on the electronics. Finally, he yelled to Cruz to cast off the bow line. She tossed the line up onto the foredeck where Chyrel and Charity were now sitting with the two girls.

  “Cast off the stern,” Carmichael called down to me.

  Quickly untying the line from the dock cleat, I saw Cruz standing by the rail amidships. She’d moved the boarding steps to the side, and stood ready to push the big boat away from the dock.

  “Shove off,” Carmichael ordered Cruz.

  She pushed hard against the gunwale, her feet slipping on the dock. Slowly, the bow began to move out away from the dock. Why Carmichael hadn’t used a spring line, or at least tractor steered with the throttles, I didn’t know. But it was almost comical how hard the small woman was pushing, and how slowly the big boat responded to her effort.

  Finally, with one last push, Cruz stepped across the gap onto the side deck and went forward. She started pulling up the large fenders, putting them in racks along the rail, and I did the same with the two alongside the cockpit.

  Cruz continued forward and Carmichael called down for me to join him. I noticed that he waited until the boat had drifted in the direction he wanted to go, before he engaged the transmissions. The sound of water rushing from behind the boat by the twin props told me he’d shifted both to forward, instead of using them alternately to power the bow away from the dock.

  Climbing the ladder to the flybridge, I went forward to where Carmichael sat behind the wheel.

  “Have a seat, boyo,” he said, leaning forward to look down at the foredeck. “Nothing much to do for the next couple of hours but enjoy the view.”

  Looking down over the low windshield, I saw Cruz wiggling out of her cutoffs to join the other four women on a wide, cushioned bench. It was built on the leading edge of the cabin roof and each of the five seats had a separate backrest that could be reclined almost flat. One by one, the women did just that: reclined to allow the full sun, and our eyes, to fall on their bodies.

  “Yeah,” Carmichael said, practically drooling. “Now there’s a dream come true for any man.”

  “That’s a heck of an idea,” I said, sitting in one of the two matching seats on either side of his center seat. “Most boats like this don’t have any forward seating, I noticed.”

  “So was yours,” he said, with a grin. “Did ya see the ladder?” I nodded, as we idled slowly between the markers leading to deeper water. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it myself,” he continued. “When we’re underway, the ladies can entertain themselves down there and you and I can tag team from up here.”

  I’d noticed when I was down in the cabin with Cruz that it had a locking hatch, made of sturdy hardwood, with substantial iron hinges and a locking mechanism that looked very secure. The lock required a key on either side. These two planned to keep their captives down there, safely locked away, until they’d used them up.

  As Carmichael nudged the throttles up slightly, I saw Gaspar’s Revenge passing by, out in the main channel of the Intracoastal. She was up on plane and heading south at about thirty knots.

  “See that,” Carmichael said, pointing at my boat. “Those clowns will burn more fuel in an hour than I will before morning.”

  “That’s a deep-sea fishing boat, right?” I asked, again playing the land lubber, ignorant of all things nautical.

  “Yeah,” he replied. “See those long poles laying back on the roof? Those are outriggers, to hold the lines out away from the boat so they don’t tangle.”

  “Never been deep-sea fishing,” I said. “But if it’s anything like bass fishing, I like to get to the good spots faster than the other guy.”

  “The
re’s plenty of fish in the sea,” he said, grinning like he’d told the world’s greatest reverse pun.

  I laughed anyway.

  “Grab a couple of beers from that mini-fridge in front of you.”

  Opening the little built-in refrigerator, I saw that it was stocked with nothing but cheap beer and bottled water. The guy had millions in gems stashed just a few feet behind and below where we sat, but bought the cheapest beer they had at the marina.

  I took two cans out and handed him one. “Just one or two, before we leave the bay,” he said. “Don’t want us to get all shit-faced before we navigate a narrow channel. We need to set up some ground rules.”

  “Ground rules for drinking beer or navigating channels?”

  “Neither,” he replied, leering over the windshield. “Ground rules for this floating orgy. Personally, I only like women, particularly women who also like women. Nothing personal, but I don’t wanna see your junk. So we take turns, okay?”

  “Take turns?” I asked, trying not to sound repulsed.

  “I’m supplying three and you got two,” he said, as if dividing up chips before a poker game. “We take turns with one, two, or all five at once. No pressure, though. The lifestyle rules hold on the water, too. If someone says no, or is uncomfortable, we back off.”

  “We’re sort of new to the lifestyle,” I said, removing the two cigars from my shirt pocket and extending one to Carmichael. “Care for one?”

  “Thanks,” he replied, taking it, and examining the odd chisel tip end to the roll.

  From my pocket, I produced a folding knife and quickly poked a small hole near the tip of each cigar. “Keep the hole up,” I said. “When you draw on it, the roof of your mouth will get the full flavor.”

  Lighting the cigar, Carmichael said, “Rosana chose you three, as well as Jenna and Penny. She goes both ways, and likes for me to watch her with other women. Your wife, her friend, and the two girls, are bi—or just straight-up lesbian, in Jenna’s case. She hasn’t let me touch her yet. Rosana’s good with new girls, leading them slowly to where they want to go, but just don’t know it yet. By the time we get back, your Ginger will be a full-on rock star when it comes to pleasing more than one person at the same time. And Jenna will be bouncing on top of both of us. But me? I only go one way.”