Say Your Goodbyes

by Linda Ladd

  “So you believe her now?” Jenn asked. “That this guy is an assassin and he’s after her because her father wants her dead? Can’t imagine a father doing that, but he is a brutal son of a bitch, they say.”

  “The tattoo pretty much nailed it down for me. I’m not sure she’s capable of telling the truth. I think she’s been lying so long that she doesn’t know how to tell the truth anymore. She came out of the water that night and woke up making up stories.”

  “And you’re still dragging her around, because … ?”

  “Initially, I just felt sorry for her. And obligated to help her. That guy knocked the hell out of her. She should’ve had a mild concussion, at the very least. Maybe she does have one and that’s confusing her thoughts. I’ve been trying to figure her out and what I should believe. But she was a kid out there, alone and scared, with nowhere to turn. That’s why I stepped in. For better or worse.”

  “For worse, I’d say.” Jenn sighed again. “Ah, the softhearted knight returns. Might’ve been better if you’d turned her over to the authorities before this guy started trying to kill you. Let them deal with her.”

  “Don’t think that didn’t occur to me. I had pretty much decided to drop her off at a police station somewhere, when they commandeered my boat. Didn’t have a clue that playing Good Samaritan was gonna turn into a life-and-death duel with a butcher. But it’s done. Nothing I can do about it now.”

  Jenn watched him. “He’s already here in Chetumal. You sure you lost him today? Should we move her to a different safe house?”

  “I think we lost him. But he’s damn good. You know that night he accosted those pirates? I figure he had a bigger boat anchored offshore somewhere but close to the cove, a small yacht, maybe. He launched his canoe from there. He had to have a boat to get up here this fast. No cars were on that beach, no roads to the interior that I saw. I think after I stole his canoe, he made his way back to the other vessel, maybe even swam out to it, and started tracking us. GPS coordinates, most likely. Thought I stopped that when I smashed up the phone we found in his knapsack. But he’s got some way he’s doing it now. We’ve got to figure out how or he’ll dog us everywhere we go.”

  “Well, tell you one thing. I, for one, do not want to meet up with him. Ever. Can’t say I want you to meet up with him, either. Or that girl downstairs, as far as that goes. So okay, we’ll check out those marinas and hope you’re right. And maybe you should burn that knapsack and everything inside it.”

  “Good idea. I’ll do that.” Novak looked over at her. “It’s always busy up there along that strip, or used to be, anyway. Lots of boats coming in off the ocean and docking at the marinas for the big beach parties. The streets are crowded. The hotel balcony gives me a place where I can spot him before he spots me.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then I’m going to steal his boat. That should slow him up a good bit.”

  “And if you’re wrong about him being there?”

  “Then I’ll figure out where else he might be.”

  Jenn nodded. “Okay, but we’ve got to find out how he’s finding us. This time was way too close for comfort. Do you think the girl is contacting him somehow? Working with him, maybe? And what about that other girl you saw? How does she fit in?”

  “I don’t have a clue. But I could have sworn she was signaling to Marisol. Maybe not. Maybe there was somebody else between them that she was waving at. Maybe I’m wrong. But he was already there, already had a car, and was searching the surrounding streets for us. It shocked me that he had found us that fast, that he was on the same block. My God, we had just gotten there ourselves. Marisol had run there at random, or so it seemed.” He finished off the beer and turned to Jenn. “What about available cars?”

  “I have vehicles stashed all over the city. Two right here, out back in that garage. A black Toyota Camry and a small dark blue Hyundai hatchback. Both suitably nondescript, legally licensed, and insured. I have six more in the area, some in storage garages. Plenty of weapons and other equipment, too. As you know from last time.”

  “Surveillance equipment?”

  “The best made.”

  “You are mighty good at what you do, Jenn.”

  “I know. Glad you finally noticed.”

  Novak grinned. “Okay, you take the hatchback, and I’ll take the Harley. You still got my jacket and helmet?”

  Jenn nodded. “Oh yeah, with the bloodstains and everything. I kept them for sentimental value. Everything’s out there with the bike. Nobody’s gonna recognize you with the visor down.”

  “Which hotel’s gonna be the best for surveillance?”

  “One of them is about three stories tall, and the other is five floors, I think. The tall one’s probably the most suitable. Called the Bahia del Sol. Nice place, top quality, luxury rating, probably four stars. It’s the best bet for privacy. Usually crowded with Americans and Brits. Some other Europeans. And the balconies are big, covered, and give a panoramic view of those marinas you’re so interested in.”

  “Perfect. That’s what I thought.” Novak felt better. He wanted to do something—go on the offensive. Tired of playing defense. The Mayan had been making the plays. Time to switch roles and shake the killer up a bit. “What about leaving the girl in the hold alone? Is that too risky, you think? Could he get to her here while we’re gone?”

  “I would normally say no, definitely no way, but this guy you’ve got chasing you? He’s a damn bloodhound. If you really managed to lose him, she’ll be fine here. I’ll lock her in the hold and there’s no way she can get out or he can get in. Not without blowing the door. Maybe he won’t find us so fast this time. You took precautions when you came here, right? Hopefully, we can get you set up at the Bahia del Sol before he finds this house. As for Marisol, she’s got enough of everything to survive for over a month. I’ll be back in a matter of hours anyway. Unless you need me to stay up there and watch your back.”

  “I just need you to call in that reservation, go get me the key, and make sure you get the top floor. Use an untraceable credit card under one of your assumed names. Tell them that we’re a married couple, in case they see us together.”

  “No problem.”

  “How far are we talking about? I can’t remember.”

  “Thirty or forty minutes, depending on traffic. An hour from down here at the most.”

  “Okay, let’s go. You can bet our Mayan friend isn’t sitting still. He’s trying to pick us up again right now.”

  It did take almost an hour. Jenn pulled up in front of the Bahia del Sol Hotel in a worn and dirty 2010 Hyundai hatchback and parked across the street. Novak left his cycle, crossed the road, and slid into the front seat beside her. There were people moving around everywhere, most of them dressed in shorts and Tshirts and skimpy bathing suits and flip flops. Crowds surrounded food carts along the main walkways, and the aroma of tamales and tacos was making Novak’s stomach growl. Novak had arrived first on the Harley and had done a quick reconnoiter around the hotel before Jenn had gotten there.

  It hadn’t taken Novak long to locate a back entrance of a fairly isolated parking lot on the south side of the hotel. He had waited there for Jenn, sitting on the chopper under some impressive royal palms and watching the hotel’s side door long enough to know that nobody much used it. It was accessible by swiping a hotel card key. Novak told Jenn to go do her stuff and watched her cross the busy street and enter the front lobby.

  Once Novak found the coast clear, he got out, ran across to the Harley, fired her up, and then headed down south along the street hugging the beaches. He rode in heavy traffic for about a mile and then circled around through deserted back alleys toward the hotel. The area had been built up some since he had lain on that beach, bleeding and sweating and half delirious with fever. Lots more restaurants than there had been before, lots more clubs, lots more bars, and lots more people. Now, on a warm and pleasant night, everything was hopping. That was a good thing. Nobody even glanced at him. />
  By the time he returned to the hotel, there were a few more cars in the parking lot, but it looked like the weekend guests had already arrived, probably the night before, checked in, and settled in their rooms. He parked the bike under the same palm trees, half hidden by a stand of white azaleas. He waited there, leaning against the Harley, until he saw the hotel’s side door push out and Jenn step into view. Novak stood up and walked swiftly toward her, zigzagging through the parked vehicles. She handed him the card key, the credit card, and a thick roll of cash. Then she picked up the satchel full of the equipment he had requested and handed it over.

  “Be careful, Novak,” she said. “This guy’s a psycho of the highest degree.”

  “Don’t I know it. You be careful, too. I’ll call you as soon as I locate his boat. Keep your eyes open. Don’t take chances. He might already be out there, tracking the kid somehow. Watch your back.”

  “I know what I’m doing.”

  True. She had never lost a prisoner, a witness, or an undercover operative, not to Novak’s knowledge.

  “Well, good luck,” she said. “Hope you’re right about the boat, but there are lots of marinas in Chetumal besides the ones up here. It’s a long shot, if you ask me. But you’ve got good instincts. I know that better than most.”

  “I think I’m right about this. I feel it. But if he doesn’t show, I’ll move on to plan B.”

  Jenn nodded, turned, and walked swiftly down a sidewalk that led around the hotel’s kidney-shaped swimming pool and eventually meandered through some flower gardens. There was another hotel exit at the other end of the sidewalk and it seemed to be the one that most of the guests preferred to use, probably because of its proximity to the pool and playground area. He watched Jenn out of sight and then didn’t waste any more time. He swiped the key and stepped inside. Empty ground floor corridor. Completely quiet and cool. Nobody around. Lots of doors to lots of rooms, all closed. No guest elevators in sight, but there was a freight elevator sitting empty about ten yards down the adjacent hallway, so Novak boarded it in a hurry and rode up to the top floor. Hadn’t seen a soul. Everybody out sightseeing and partying and eating burritos. Everybody but him. So far, so good.

  The suite Jenn had reserved was at the south end of the hall, last room on the left, facing the sea. Novak swiped the key again and ducked inside. He breathed easier. As far as he could tell, nobody had seen him. Talk about a stroke of good luck. Nobody wanted to hang around inside a hotel room, not with a fun-filled tropical night just outside their doors. Not so good were the security cameras he’d seen in the hallways. None inside the freight elevator, so he’d continue to use it. If his luck held out, nobody but Jenn would know he was there.

  Inside the spacious suite, it smelled like stale canned air. But it was cool enough. The suite looked pretty good. Large and luxurious. On the modern side, all white and black and gray. Big black sectional with a built-in recliner and an oversize chaise on one end. Modular white chairs. Modern art that looked like splashes of red and yellow paint dribbled down a white canvas. Two bedrooms with their own baths. A living area separating the bedrooms and replete with a big-screen TV and wet bar. A small galley kitchen with stainless steel appliances. Fancy. A lot more so than most hotels in rural Mexico, especially the Hotel Lagoon. Not the Ritz-Carlton, by any stretch of the imagination, but suitable for his purpose. He wasn’t going to stay long, anyway.

  The suite had two balconies facing in two different directions because it was located on a corner. Even better. The living room balcony overlooked the marinas; the other balcony was in the master bedroom and gave him a bird’s-eye view of the grounds below, the swimming pool, and his Harley. He could gaze almost the entire length of the street that ran in front of the hotel. He could see at least four marinas in the bay just across the street, side by side, one after another. A myriad of tall masts looked like a leafless forest out on the water. He would check out every boat in every one of those marinas. This was where he’d put in if he were an assassin on the hunt. Totally anonymous. The assassin would be crazy to choose a dock inside the city center, where police patrolled the streets.

  Novak placed Jenn’s duffel bag down on the floor near the big French doors and pulled out the high-powered binoculars that she’d provided. Top-of-the-line, military quality, night vision—perfect for surveillance. God bless her little heart. He opened the balcony doors and stood there a moment, breathing in the sea and the warm night air. It smelled good; it tasted good. He didn’t want to set up outside on the balcony where he could be spotted by a professional like the Mayan, but he really didn’t need to. He just needed to set up a nice little surveillance station inside the doors, where he could watch for his prey undetected. He felt sure he was on the right track. His instincts were usually pretty good. It was worth a shot, in any case. He wanted to be the hunter for a change, not the hunted. The Mayan had taken the offense long enough.

  Unfolding two tripods, he attached the field glasses to one and a digital camera with a powerful zoom lens to the other. Then he pulled up a dining room chair. Before he sat down, he stood there for several moments and eyeballed the wide bay spread out below. Lights spangled the road like a sparkling diamond necklace. The height of the hotel gave him a great vantage point. The bay was big, shaped almost like a heart, stretching out in both directions, maybe four city blocks wide. On the north curve of the arc that ran out to sea, there was an ocean break formed from large gray concrete blocks shaped like ginger jars. It closed off the shallow part of the inlet and left a deeper channel for large oceangoing vessels and private pleasure craft.

  Directly in front of him, the docked boats were tied up on either side of long and narrow planked piers, across from each other. They looked like pigs feeding at floating troughs. Lots of them. A good place to hide a boat, any boat. The Mayan would know that. He had proven his merit already. Novak was pretty good himself, but he figured most of the Yucatan Peninsula was the Mayan’s stomping grounds. He better remember what this guy was capable of, but he was going to get him. No doubt about it. Half a dozen large yachts were anchored off the far ends of the piers, out in the deeper water. The Mayan was out there somewhere, in that giant mass of masts. Novak felt it. He knew it. And he was going to find him.

  Shrugging out of the leather jacket, he pulled out a bottle of ice-cold water from the mini fridge. He twisted the cap and drank about half of it, and then he put it aside and sat down, ready for a long, boring surveillance. He started sweeping the boats tied up right in front of him. The Mayan would not be registered in either hotel. He’d stay on his boat. Safer that way. That’s what Novak would do under optimum conditions. More private, and all calibers of firepower hidden belowdecks, nice and handy and deadly. If the killer was smart, he’d also have his gangplank booby-trapped, in case anybody tried to surprise him while he slept. Novak had his own homemade alarm system on the Sweet Sarah.

  If the killer had lost sight of them now, as Novak suspected, the guy just might hide himself in a busy marina while he nailed down his next move. He was ritualistic, it appeared. Who he really was and evidence of his nefarious deeds were likely inside that boat. Novak had a feeling he and the Mayan might have some instincts in common, as well as a strong sense of self-preservation. But time would tell.

  Novak sat guard until the sun rose over the sea. Now it was quiet and deserted. People were still in bed. He took a break and drank more water, made himself coffee out of the little pot in the kitchen. Ate a small box of Nutter Butter cookies that he found in the minibar. Then he sat down and took up his post again. A lot of the boats below looked battened down and deserted. More time passed. Mid-morning and first day of vacation at a beautiful resort with a glorious turquoise sea waiting right outside their doors. Some boat owners were beginning to stir, others were probably sleeping off last night’s drunk. Looked like some were opting for the big brunches offered by the hotels.

  It was a gorgeous day, already warm, probably in the low eighties. Blue sky, not
a cloud anywhere to be seen, just hot sun blazing down and making the water shine and glitter like a giant aquamarine slab. A good day for tourists to do just about anything they wanted. If the Mayan was hunkered down in one of the boats out there, he’d have to show himself eventually. He would have to get up and go out and find Novak and the girl. His boat probably wouldn’t be particularly big or fancy. It would just be a typical craft on the outside, just like any seafaring sailor would choose, but with a killer’s deadly lair down below. Novak would soon see. Because he was going to sail it home to the bayous. That wouldn’t stop the Mayan, but at least Novak would be on his home turf when the killer came to get it back.

  So he sat there alone, in dead silence, the corridor outside quiet except for a door opening or closing now and then. He kept scanning the berths below, back and forth, stopping on any person who happened out on deck or walked toward the street. He settled himself in for a long and thorough, precise search of each boat, slow, careful, and rarely taking his eyes off the scene. After an hour passed, more people swarmed the street below. Boat owners began coming up on their decks and moving around. Ten o’clock. Up for the day. Ready for sightseeing or visiting ancient Spanish cathedrals or stretching out on the sandy beach at the south end of the boulevard. The Mayan wouldn’t be doing any of that. He’d be lying in wait, just like Novak was, sharpening his green obsidian blade, no doubt. But it wasn’t going to sever Novak’s scalp, or Marisol’s, either, and especially not Jenn’s, not if things turned out the way Novak hoped.

  So he sat there. Alone. Hours and hours, watching and waiting and searching. He got up several times and paced around, stretched his muscles, drank more water, ate a package of peanuts, and then he went back to work. Jenn had texted twice, telling him she got back fine and everything looked okay. Marisol had showered and was sleeping and cooperating. Behaving herself. Nobody had come calling, not yet, anyway.