“It was about the size of a person. I thought maybe someone tried to dump a body.”
Dix leaned forward. “Do people dump bodies out here a lot?”
“No, but it happens sometimes.” Roger shrugged. Peterson said, “Okay. So what else happened?”
Roger appeared to think a moment. “I grabbed my binoculars and looked out in the water in front of the shape.” He pointed to the detectives. “I saw you guys in two boats. Except you weren’t fishing, and I didn’t see Wilfred.”
The men looked at each other.
“Then I had a thought. Word on the street was Sean and Preston were killed by a large caliber round. Some folks speculated about a high-powered rifle. I stopped moving, thinking a person with a gun might be hiding there.”
Bubba sat forward. “So then what happened?”
“I’m gettin’ there. I didn’t have my gun, but I spotted a two-by-four tucked in the dogwood bushes. I grabbed it as quietly as I could and moved closer. When I was about five yards away, I noticed the left side of the object raise and lower like it was breathing. This pretty much confirmed a live body was underneath. When I saw the barrel of a rifle come out, pointed in your direction, I didn’t even think, I just swung down on the grass where I thought a head might be.”
Bubba and Wilfred were shocked. Dix and Petersen just looked at each other and back at Roger.
“The guy must have figured out I was there just as my swing came down on him. He turned over enough for me to catch him right across the temple with my piece of wood, and out he went.”
Bubba was concerned. “Did you kill him?”
Dix had his own questions. “Where’s the body? What was he wearing? What did he look like?”
Petersen cleared his throat. “Calm down. Maybe the guy’s alive.” Everyone looked at Roger waiting to hear his reply.
Roger nodded. “He is.”
Dix shook his head. “Roger, you saved our lives. That son of a bitch could have taken us out. Thank you.”
Dix offered Roger his hand and then stood up. “I want to question the guy, at length, and then punch him squarely in the face. The asshole may have killed or was involved with killing Preston and Sean.”
Roger motioned toward his car. “Let’s take a ride. He’s regained consciousness. Tommy and my brother are guarding him in my backyard shed. Oh, and one more thing, I haven’t told the police about this yet.”
Dix looked at Peterson and shrugged.
The detectives piled into Roger’s vehicle, anxious to talk to the captive.
Bubba waved. “You can handle this.” He headed back to the dining room as the car sped away.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Jim “Bloodhound” Calhoun contemplated the contents of the brief, yet informative phone call he’d just completed.
He wasn’t completely surprised, but he was disappointed.
According to his source, two significant problems had developed. First, the initiative for the Deepwater Project was shot down in the House of Representatives. Apparently, the money wasn’t right, and the cost of the scheduled maintenance of the new equipment was unsettling to the people who had to sign the checks. Second, and more importantly, hiring the retired Special Ops mercenary turned out to be an egregious mistake.
One of Calhoun’s biggest competitors from Columbia arranged to send a massive shipment of cocaine to Miami through the Bahamas. To maintain his control of narcotic distribution on the East Coast, Calhoun had planned to have the load hijacked. If all had gone well, the boat and its contents, worth close to one hundred million dollars, would be sitting in a slip registered to a fake owner in the port of Miami. But, it hadn’t gone well.
A loss of this size would temporarily crush his opponent, and make others think twice about trying to move into his territory. The only contingency he hadn’t prepared for was the mercenary failing, and worse, sinking the cargo.
The Deepwater Project could wait. In the meantime, the Coast Guard would get the funding necessary to remain the primary force patrolling the Caribbean, mostly because no one else was prepared or trained to do it as well.
Thomas had come highly recommended and had no idea who’d hired him, but he might be able to provide law enforcement with a clue to Calhoun’s identity.
Calhoun took a deep breath and reminded himself to remain calm and focused when he called the sniper-for-hire. He would not pay the contract, and the guy could expect heavy penalties.
However, every time he tried to call Thomas, he got no answer.
This was unusual because Calhoun had used Thomas three times prior to this mission, and he always answered and returned calls quickly.
Calhoun grew more upset. Not knowing the current status of the situation was eating him up.
He felt his blood pressure rise. He had himself mostly to blame for relying on the aged sharpshooter. Now his entire operation was in jeopardy. Calhoun wasn’t ready to let go of thirty years of diligent work and deception, just because of a little hiccup. Not yet anyway… I’m going to have to take care of this myself.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Dix’s cell phone rang, waking Petersen in the rear passenger seat. He grabbed it from his pocket and looked at the screen. The call was from Snead.
He answered. “Speak to me, bud. What do you have?”
“You’re in a good mood. Tell me what you got, and I’ll tell you what I got.”
“Deal. One of the locals apprehended a sniper.”
“A what? Did you say sniper?”
“Yes, sniper. Before you ask what it means to this case, I have no idea. The locals assume the bastard murdered Sean and Preston.”
Snead laughed. “Man, you step into shit no matter where you go.”
Dix chuckled. “I have you to thank for that.”
Snead grunted. “I’ve got your intel, but I don’t know how helpful it’ll be.”
“I’ve got a short ride, so make it quick.”
“The vessel is registered out of Florida. Miami to be exact. Registered owner is a female named Jackie Spears, with an address on Palm Drive. And before you ask, I already ran her. Near as I can tell, she doesn’t exist. Looks like a phantom registration. I called my techie buddies to see if they could come up with anything else.”
Dix was already ahead of his friend, wondering what the information meant.
“Hold on a second,” said Snead. “What’s up? I just got an instant message from one of my guys. He says he had to disable several firewalls and a worm virus which attacked his computer when he started his search for a Jackie Spears at that address.”
“Jesus, this thing gets crazier by the minute.”
“It’s a hell of a sophisticated operation,” replied Snead. “We haven’t seen this level of complexity at the office.
Do you remember anything like it before you retired?” Dix wondered who could pull something like this off.
“We had the one case out of Miami, remember, where a guy led us on a wild goose chase. He had everything safeguarded on his laptop. He was a small time dealer, but he used lots of smokescreens and stuff.”
“That’s right. Didn’t we have to send the laptop off to the FBI, and they sent it to the nerds at MIT to get into it?”
“Yep. Even those guys needed two damn days.”
Dix had hoped to get a lead from the data he gave Snead, but it hadn’t worked out. “Okay, so I won’t know much for a few days, if at all.”
“Don’t get your panties in a wad. I still have a few tricks up my sleeve.” Snead chuckled.
“Okay, I have to go. We’re pulling up to where the locals stashed the guy they caught.”
“Be careful.” Dix strongly considered Snead’s warning as he ended the call.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
A young Bahamian man Dix assumed was Roger’s son opened the front door of the house before the car came to a complete stop. He was dressed in black and armed with an MP-5 over his shoulder and a Colt .45 on his hip.
The house
door closed, and Roger glanced over his shoulder. “We have company. Police on the left.”
Dix nodded.
“They haven’t driven down here for months.”
Roger looked at the detectives. “No offense, guys, but let me do the talking if they stop.”
A white van slowed to a crawl as it neared the house. The driver positioned the vehicle to block Rogers’s car as it stopped. Two uniformed local officers emerged.
Roger flashed them a friendly smile. “Good evening, gentlemen. How are you?”
The older of the two, a light-skinned man with a thick British accent answered, “Hello.”
His partner, much darker skinned and younger, nodded. Roger pointed to his visitors. “This is Mr. Dix and Mr. Petersen. They’re guests at Turtle Cay Lodge. Bubba and Wilfred Jones took them fishing today and convinced them to try my famous guava jam rolls. Would you like a taste?”
The younger officer stepped forward. “Well, speaking about those rolls, that’s why we’re here. The commissioner is entertaining guests from the States and wondered if he could get some to impress his visitors.”
Roger’s grin broadened. “Is that all? I thought you were here to take me away.”
Both officers chuckled.
Roger turned toward the house. “Wait here and I’ll get a dozen for the commissioner.”
The older officer walked back to the van and got into the driver’s seat while the younger one asked if he could go inside to see how the rolls were made.
Dix heard the tension in Roger’s voice when he said, “Sure.” Dix decided to create a diversion. “If you don’t mind my asking, what do you guys do for excitement on the island? After all, it’s pretty small.”
“What? You think the police don’t have much to do here?”
Dix smiled. “I don’t see how you could.” The rookie Royal Bahamian police officer turned to Dix and Petersen while Roger slipped into the house.
The officer chuckled. “We have locals trying to get rich off tourists like you by picking their pockets. We deal with robberies and narcotics smugglers. There’s a lot happening on this island, so we need to keep things quiet. Tourists would not come here as much if they knew about our issues.”
Roger returned just as the officer concluded, “… and that’s why we work so hard.” The rookie grabbed the plate as the police radio came to life. “Got a call. Thank you.”
He jumped in. The driver started up and the van sped back down the dirt road with lights and sirens blaring.
Petersen watched as they drove out of sight. Well, that was fun.”
Dix grimaced at him, then turned to the others. “Don’t mind him. He’s an idiot.”
Roger sighed. “The bastard in my shed slips in and out of consciousness. I don’t know if he’ll talk, but we should try.” They entered the house.
Dix turned to Petersen. “Stay here while we go to the shed. Holler if there are any problems.”
They circled the shed. At the door, Dix saw two armed men wearing black clothing. The entrance faced the back fence, so the men were not visible from the street. He recognized one as the guy they’d seen at the front door of Roger’s home. Roger told the guards it was okay to let Dix in.
They hesitated.
Dix stepped in front of Roger. “Listen, boys, I’m here to help. I want to find out if your prisoner is the guy who killed Sean and Preston. If I really wanted to stir up some shit, I’d point out that you both forgot to take the safeties off your MP-5s. I’d have plenty of time to disarm you before you figured it out.”
Roger chuckled, then pointed to the guy on the left. “This is my son and that is my baby brother. Guys, he’s right. Get the safeties off just in case.”
The guard Roger had identified as his brother spoke. “I think the man is awake, but he’s pissed.”
Roger grimaced. “He has big problems to worry about.”
The guards stepped away. Roger removed a key from a chain around his neck and unlocked the door. He walked in, followed by Dix. They entered the second room and the sniper looked up but said nothing since he was still gagged.
Roger ripped the duct tape off to release the towel. The prisoner took a deep breath as Roger glared at him. “Just checking to see if you’re alive.”
The man in the chair looked from Roger to Dix. “Yes, barely. Do I get bread and water? I won’t be much use to you dehydrated and famished.”
Dix listened carefully. The guy’s English sounded Midwestern. “Listen, prick, let’s skip the formalities and get to the point.”
“A fellow American. What a relief. Maybe you can convince them to give me something to eat. And maybe remove the blindfold as well.”
“You’ll get food and water when I decide they can give it to you. As for the blindfold…” Dix answered, motioning for Roger to take it off.
The guy blinked a couple of times. “Thanks. Now how about something to drink? I can talk better if I’m not parched. Besides, isn’t providing sustenance to captives required?”
Dix shook his head. “That only applies during wartime. Since it appears you’re a mercenary, whoever hired you won’t be contacting local law enforcement to report you missing.”
The prisoner sighed. “Well, if you’re going to kill me, just do it. I’ve been in worse situations. This contract was supposed to be my last. I was going to retire.”
Dix raised an eyebrow and stared at the man. “You retired once before I bet. Why are you doing contracts at your age?”
“Two daughters in college.” He eyed Dix and smirked, “And I can still get the job done.”
“That may be, but now you have major problems.”
The shooter looked at the room, his hands, and his legs. “Maybe.”
Dix watched as the sniper slowly slumped over, and he motioned for Roger to get the man a drink.
Roger left and returned with a glass of water and a large piece of bread which he fed to the prisoner.
When he was finished, he turned to Roger. “Was it you who got me good? What did you use, a piece of wood?”
Roger smiled. “Yes and yes.”
“Snuck up on me. Didn’t think it was possible. I watched you and your family and dismissed you as a threat. Apparently my judgment failed me.”
Dix wanted to get on with the interrogation. They’d already wasted valuable time. “Let me tell you what I know. Stop me when I’m wrong.”
“What? You’re not going to ask my name, and who I work for, and what I was doing?”
Dix grabbed another chair from the corner and sat opposite the suspect. “I know most of that already. You were hired, most likely by the Caller, to hijack a large shipment of coke. It probably belonged to one of the Caller’s competitors. You took the job and came to Andros Island intending to disable the boat and secure the cocaine. Unfortunately, you allowed the speedboat to get underway before you could intercede. So you figured you’d kill the occupants to stop it. I’m not sure if that was part of the contract or not. ”
Thomas tried lying first. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I came here last night. I did take a contract from the Caller, but it was to fix someone else’s mistake. All I was told was there was a vessel underwater containing precious cargo. I was provided GPS coordinates for the vessel and was scouting out the location to see how to retrieve the boat when I was smacked across the face.”
Dix thought for a moment. “As you fired on the occupants, you accidentally disabled the vessel, and it sank. You jacked up the mission. To make up for your mistake, you offered to fix the situation quickly and quietly, which the Caller agreed to. You monitored the location and saw a flats boat arrive. After a while, one of the occupants left the boat and dove down to your sunken speedboat. As he came up, another boat arrived. So you were going to eliminate the people on the boats. For some reason, you moved around too much underneath your ghillie suit. That’s what gave you away.”
The prisoner remained in eye contact with Dix. “You keep saying I kil
led two people. It’s not true. I admit I was going to kill the guys poaching in the area I thought the speed boat was in.” He shrugged. “Business is business.”
Thomas motioned with his head to Roger. “I paused, which enabled him to capture me.”
Dix asked, “Where did you deploy from?”
“I was in Nassau diving. The details were sent to my iPhone.
Arrived here about an hour later by boat.”
Dix spoke quickly. “Where were you diving?”
The guy hesitated, then replied, “The Tongue of the Ocean.”
Roger cleared his throat. “Dix. He’s full of shit. The Tongue is about a mile off of the island we’re standing on.”
Dix stared at the suspect. “Thanks, Roger. As far as I’m concerned, unless he wants to tell us who the Caller is, you and your friends can do with him what you want.” Then he softened his voice and added, “Listen, man, tell us what you know, and I’ll do what I can to keep you alive. You know you have no other options. Prison or death.”
The sniper closed his eyes. “Get me some aspirin, and maybe something more than stale bread, and I’ll tell you what I know. No joke, I’ve had it. I choose prison, although I am not too sure I’ll make it out of this shed alive regardless.” Dix asked Roger to get the aspirin and some fresh food.
While Dix was alone, he leaned back in his chair. “Okay, who are you and what’s your background?’
The sniper watched him closely. “M. A. Thomas. Retired Special Ops.”
Dix nodded. “Just as I thought.”
Roger came back with a can of soda, aspirin, and fresh fruit, which he gave to Dix.
“Untie his hands, but keep his feet tied to the chair legs. The door is locked, and there are no weapons here. Even if he escaped his bonds, he’d be dead as he stepped out of the shed.”
Thomas popped the aspirins and drank the soda in one long gulp.
Gray Ghost (The Bill Dix Detective Series Book 1) Page 6