"Well, not exactly."
"What kind of investments have you made? Where's your retirement money, for example?"
"Bond funds, mostly."
"Uh-huh," Kathy said. "That's conservative. Low risk, but the returns are fairly low, too, right?"
"Yes."
"Let's just pick a number," Kathy said. "Say you've got a hundred dollars in a bond fund with an average yield of three percent a year. You're going to make three dollars a year on that investment, right?"
Paul nodded.
"Now let's say you've got another hundred dollars, and you divide it up into ten equal parts of ten dollars each. We're going to put those in some pretty high risk investments. So risky that a conservative person might think we were gambling, but we still do our best to pick winners, okay?"
"Okay."
"Now let's say half of those investments are losers. Let's say we lose 30 percent over five of them, on the average. We're down by how much?"
"Fifteen dollars, right?"
"Yes. So of that $50, we have $35 left. Now, let's look at the other five investments. Say two of them pay off at 75 percent. That's how much?"
"Um," Paul frowned. "Seven-fifty each, so fifteen dollars."
"Good," Kathy said. "So far, we're even. We've got a zero return on seventy dollars. We've still got three investments to look at. Let's just keep it simple and say two of them go out of business -- total loss of $10 each, so we're down $20 on our $90 now. Not such a happy outcome, so far, but we've still got one $10 investment left. We put that one in a company that opened up a whole new market and went public over the last year. Our last $10 investment is worth $200. Now, where does that leave us on our original $100?"
"Well," Paul said, frowning again, "We're down to $70 from the first $90, plus $200 from the last $10, so we've got $270, right?"
"Good job staying with me through that," Kathy said, smiling. "You're right. We've made $170 on that $100 investment -- a 170% return. Remember the three dollars we made on the bond fund?"
"I'd forgotten," Paul said, grinning.
"Exactly," Kathy said. "It's not worth remembering. That's the risk of avoiding risk. If we'd invested both of those $100 funds in the diversified portfolio that we put the second $100 into, we'd have $540 instead of $373. You agree?"
"Um, yes," Paul said.
"There are other things to consider when looking at alternatives like this," Kathy said. "This may be a little personal; you don't have to answer if you're not comfortable with it, but I want you to think about that million dollars we were talking about. Both of you. Okay?"
Connie and Paul both nodded.
"Now, don't read too much into this question. It's a worst case scenario; it's not going to happen. But just to put things in perspective, I want you to tell me how your life would change if you put that million dollars into our fund and you lost it all. Don't answer right away. Just think about it." Kathy paused, watching them.
Connie frowned and shook her head. Paul's face went white and he swallowed hard. They were looking at one another, each studying the other's expression. Kathy watched as they got over the shock. When she sensed that they were convincing themselves that they could survive the loss somehow, she cleared her throat.
"And while you're thinking about that," Kathy said, "remember that we guarantee our Global International Regional Directors -- you'd be the first ones -- we guarantee you a 37% return." She paused, watching their faces. "Would you like for me and Frank to leave you alone for a little while?"
Paul turned to look at Kathy and smiled, shaking his head. He took Connie's hand and squeezed it. "No," he said. "No, that's okay, thanks. I think we're ready. Tell us where to wire the money."
Chapter 27
Diamantista II ghosted along on the light offshore breeze, all sails drawing well. Connie and Paul sat side-by-side behind the helm sharing a cup of coffee. They had sailed off their anchor at first light this morning to avoid waking Frank and Kathy. The trip to Rodney Bay, St. Lucia, was 90 nautical miles. With an early departure, they could make it in daylight. Both awake at dawn, they had decided to let their guests sleep in.
"Good acting, yesterday, cookie. For a minute there, you had me worried that you were going to back out of giving them the money."
"That's how you told me to play it."
"But I had no idea you'd be so convincing."
"Hey, you're not the only con artist in the family. You've heard of the good cop-bad cop routine, right?"
"Yes. But I've never actually seen you play somebody like that. I'm not sure I like knowing you can do that."
"I'd never play you that way, skipper."
"You'd better not; I have a temper that you haven't seen yet."
"Uh-oh. If it gets worse than what I've seen, I don't think I want to know about it."
"Best if we both have a few secrets, huh?" She nudged him and smiled.
"Speaking of secrets, don't you wish we could know what Johnson's up to? Frank was up late last night with his head buried in that computer of his."
"That reminds me," Connie said. "Did you get all that info to Johnson? The logon stuff?"
"Yes. He acknowledged receipt. The next move's his."
Connie was punching buttons on the chartplotter mounted above the helm. She looked over at Paul and grinned. "We've got a favorable current; we're making good time."
"I could tell. How fast are we going?"
"A little better than nine knots through the water, eleven over the ground," Connie said. "The wind filled in so gradually I barely noticed. It's going to be a great sail. Should we wake them up?"
"Let them sleep. It'll get rough out in the Martinique Channel. That'll probably rouse them," Paul said. "You're out pretty far to the west, aren't you? I can barely see Scott's Head through the haze."
"I did it on purpose; that's why we kept such a good sailing breeze in the lee of Dominica. Besides, it's always so rough around Scott's Head. I'm banking on the wind backing through the day, so we won't have any trouble getting back to the east when we're past Martinique."
"Did you just say we were past Martinique?" Kathy said, appearing at the top of the companionway ladder, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
"Good morning!" Connie said. "We're not there yet; just talking about our planned course. We're maybe seven or eight miles off the south end of Dominica right now. How's the ride?"
"Great; I didn't even know when we left. Did you guys start the motor?"
"No. We slipped away under sail, hoping that you and Frank could get some rest."
"It worked; he was up pretty late, taking care of your money. You still feeling okay about that?"
"Absolutely," Paul said. "Thanks for your patience with me yesterday. Guess I kind of had cold feet."
Kathy smiled. "That's normal. You're welcome, though."
"You ready for some breakfast?" Paul asked. "Or do you want to wait for Frank?"
"He's up, getting dressed. He should join us soon." She climbed out into the cockpit. "There's no rush, but some coffee would be nice."
"Let me grab a mug for you," Paul said. He squeezed by her and went below, returning in a few seconds with two empty mugs hooked on his finger. He paused as he stepped onto the bridge deck and peered off to the west for a few seconds. Putting the mugs on the cockpit table, he sat down and picked up the carafe, filling a mug and handing it to Kathy. He twisted in his seat, looking out to the west again.
"What's got your attention out there?" Connie asked.
"I keep catching a glimpse of safety orange out on the horizon." He twisted again and shaded his eyes against the glare. "Getting closer, but not very fast."
Connie passed him the binoculars.
"What's safety orange?" Kathy asked.
"Could be a patrol boat, or a life raft," Connie said, as Paul focused the binoculars. "Or somebody got a good deal on orange paint for their fishing boat. Who knows?"
"Patrol boat of some kind," Paul said "One of those big RIBs
, with a brushed aluminum pilot house. Maybe Coast Guard markings."
"Odd that they'd be so far offshore in a boat like that," Connie said. "Any sign of a cutter out there?"
"What's a cutter?" Kathy asked.
"A Coast Guard ship, or maybe Customs from one of the islands," Connie said.
"No," Paul said. "I don't see anything, but it almost looks like they're headed for us."
"Probably just steering on Scott's Head," Connie said.
"What's everybody looking at?" Frank asked, as he climbed into the cockpit.
"Oh, there's just a boat of some kind out there," Paul said. He put the binoculars on the seat next to him and filled the fourth coffee mug, handing it to Frank. "It doesn't take much to catch our attention when we're out of sight of land."
****
Noah Johnson sat at his desk, a fresh cup of coffee in hand. As he had expected, things came together quickly once the money started moving. He'd just come from a status review meeting on the Lewis case.
Frank Lewis had broken up the million dollars that Connie and Paul had wired to him and spread it over a number of offshore accounts. The FBI had already been monitoring the accounts, but being able to link the series of transfers left no doubt as to Lewis's structuring. Further, the analysts had hacked into the Lewises' website, using the access code that Paul had sent last night. It was clear from collating the activity in the user accounts that the Lewises were running a Ponzi scheme.
All that remained was to get the U.S. Attorney's office involved and get a warrant for their arrest. Johnson had the action item on that, but after looking at his watch, he decided to head for the cafeteria and have breakfast first. It was too early to find a lawyer and a judge, and the Lewises were safely at sea on Diamantista II.
Based on Paul's email they were headed for St. Lucia today, planning to arrive late in the afternoon. Johnson left a note for his clerical assistant to find out if he could catch a flight that would put him in St. Lucia today; he might handle this bust himself. If he worked it right, he might even get a few hours to buy dinner for Connie and Paul and get a look at their yacht.
****
"They're going to ram us!" Kathy cried, watching the orange-hulled patrol boat coming up on their starboard quarter at high speed.
"Not a RIB," Paul said. "It's got U.S. Coast Guard markings, but it's one of those with a foam collar instead of inflated tubes." He still held the binoculars on the approaching boat. "Looks like three Coasties in their blue uniforms in the pilot house, and four men in black with M-4s outside. They've got FBI stenciled on their Kevlar vests. Is our VHF on?"
"Yes," Connie said, holding their course and glancing over her right shoulder occasionally.
"They just throttled back," Paul said, "but they're coming up on us pretty fast. Looks like they plan to come alongside. Wonder why they haven't called us on the -- "
There was the ripping sound of an M-4 on full automatic; the teak overlay on the starboard side deck splintered as a stream of bullets tore into it.
"What the hell!" Paul yelled as the man at the helm of the patrol boat brought it alongside. The orange foam cushion that surrounded the aluminum hull of the boat screeched in protest as it ground against Diamantista II's hull. Matching their speed, the helmsman held the boat hard against them.
Two of the men with rifles covered the four people in the cockpit while one man vaulted Diamantista II's lifelines. Once he was aboard, the man leveled his weapon at them and yelled, "Move and you're dead. FBI! We're here to make an arrest. Cooperate, and nobody gets hurt."
At that, two more armed men leapt aboard, and the patrol boat drew away, holding a position a few feet off Diamantista II's starboard side. The fourth man in black covered them with his rifle from the patrol boat.
"FBI," one of the newcomers said. "Who's Frank Lewis?"
Frank, shaking uncontrollably, raised a hand.
"Turn around, Lewis, back to me. Hands behind your back, wrists together."
When Frank complied, one of the men approached him and snapped a pair of handcuffs on him.
"Okay," the man who was giving orders said. "Which one of you bitches is Kathy Lewis?"
Kathy, glaring at him, said, "I am."
"Shit," the man said, grinning and licking his lips. "Too bad. I was hopin' it'd be the pretty one. Guess we'll have to make do with you. Turn around, sugar. Same drill."
Kathy complied, and once she was handcuffed, the leader leveled his weapon at Paul and Connie, who were both behind the helm. He made a jerking motion with his head, and the third man came back to the cockpit.
"One at a time, her first," he said. "Get her on the side deck."
The two men grabbed Kathy's upper arms and dragged her to the starboard side deck as the patrol boat scrunched up against Diamantista II again. They pushed her over the lifelines headfirst and one of the men in Coast Guard uniform grabbed her under the arms and dragged her into the patrol boat, letting her crash to the deck at his feet. She screamed, and he turned and gave her a casual but powerful kick to the ribs. "Shut up, bitch. You can scream later," he said. They dragged Frank into the patrol boat next.
Once the Lewises were on the patrol boat, it pulled away again, holding its position a few feet to the starboard. The two men returned to the cockpit and stood, eyeing Connie and grinning. One of them muttered something, and they both laughed.
"Knock it off. You know what to do," the leader barked.
The two men went down the companionway ladder.
"What's going on?" Paul asked. "Who are -- "
The man in charge lunged, driving the muzzle of his rifle into Paul's solar plexus. Paul doubled over, and the man followed through with a practiced vertical butt-stroke to his jaw. Paul collapsed. "Shut up, asshole," the man muttered.
He grinned at Connie. "Careful, sweetheart. I might decide to take you home for the boys to play with -- after I get through with you."
Connie stared at him, measuring the distance and the angles. She might be able to take him, given that he wouldn't be expecting it. But then there were the two men below, and the three still on the patrol boat. She looked away, ignoring the way his gaze swept over her body. She glanced down at Paul and saw him give her a quick wink; he was conscious. She relaxed a little.
Before she knew he'd moved, the leader dropped his rifle and he was on her. A hard right hand cupped the back of her head and his left hand squeezed her right breast. She felt his teeth grinding against her lips, crushing them against her teeth until she tasted her own blood. Before she could do more than struggle a little, he released her and stepped back, laughing. She quivered with rage, but controlled herself.
He leered at her, grinning, and retrieved his weapon. "Shakin' with excitement, ain't ya? Or are you scared? Not sure, are ya? That's just a little taste to let you know what could happen if I decide I want to arrest you, bitch. You might like it. Can't tell 'til you try it."
The other two men came back to the cockpit at that point. They each carried a bulging duffle bag. "We got it all," one of them said, waving to the boat. It bumped alongside and they tossed the duffle bags in. They both followed, leaving their leader in the cockpit.
The leader locked eyes with Connie for a moment. "Maybe I'll see you again, sugar. Take up where we left off. Would you like that?"
"I'm counting the minutes, you pathetic little geek," she said, giving full rein to the fury that had been building since they shot up the deck. "Have you ever mixed it up with a woman? You might like it. Can't tell 'til -- "
She saw stars when his fist connected with her jaw. "Bitch," he muttered. "Smart-ass cunt. Lucky for you I got my orders." He leaped into the patrol boat and it roared away to the west.
Chapter 28
"You okay?" Paul asked, helping her to sit up.
"I'll live. At least until I catch up with that jerk."
"You shouldn't have provoked him, Connie; we didn't have a prayer against all of them."
"I know. It was just too
good an opening to pass up; I'll remind him of it when the shoe's on the other foot."
"What are you saying?"
"They weren't FBI," she said.
"No." He shook his head. "We'll know for sure once we call Johnson."
"Good luck with that; they ransacked everything below decks. I wouldn't bet that we can communicate."
Paul grinned and pulled their satellite phone from his pocket. "Let's see what Noah has to say."
"First, let's heave to," Connie said. "No point in going to St. Lucia just yet."
"Aye, skipper."
****
"Johnson."
"Noah, it's Paul and Connie."
"I was wishing I could call you guys. We're just about ready."
"'Just about ready' means you're way too late," Connie said, an edge in her voice.
"What?"
"A Coast Guard boat with four assholes claiming to be FBI just arrested the Lewises, and did several thousand dollars' worth of damage to our boat. What the hell are you doing?" Connie shrieked.
"Hold on, Connie. I don't know anything about that. Take a deep breath and tell me what happened."
"I'm too angry to put up with this right now. Paul can tell you. I need to go make sure they didn't open the seacocks to scuttle us or something. Sorry. I'll get over it after I kick that jerk's ass." She went below.
"Paul?"
"Yes."
"Is she okay?"
"She's fine. She's just angry, like she said."
"What happened?"
"Well, Connie gave you the short version already. There were some things that were wrong. Number one was the behavior of the guys who said they were FBI. They didn't follow any of the normal protocols, and they certainly didn't exhibit the kind of professional demeanor I'm accustomed to from you guys. They abused us a little; Connie's pissed about that. Having said that, they executed a damned effective raid. Whoever they were, they knew what they were doing, from boat-handling to controlling the situation."
"I want to put you on hold for a few seconds and see if the Coast Guard liaison knows anything."
"Okay," Paul said. When he heard the music on hold, he called, "Connie?"
Sails Job - A Connie Barrera Thriller: The 6th Novel in the Caribbean Mystery and Adventure Series (Connie Barrera Thrillers) Page 20