by Jon Coon
He pointed to the dark shadow off the stern. The boat went dead in the water. Tom continued bringing in line. The deckhand got ready with a large gaff hook. Tom shouted, “No gaff. Just get a picture and cut the leader. I want her to have a chance.”
The deckhand looked back in disgust and surprise. “You don’t want the trophy? She’s a beauty.”
“No, cut her free. Let’s catch a wahoo or two. I want something we can eat.”
“Okay. You’re the boss. Bring her up for the picture.”
Tom arched his back and put a strain on the rod tip, bringing the massive head to the surface. Cameras rolled until, with a grunt, Tom relaxed, and the fish slipped back into the water.
“Got it,” the deckhand said, examining the playback of the GoPro video.
“Okay, Captain. You’re sure you want to release her?”
“Yeah, cut her free.”
The deckhand grabbed a filet knife from the bait stand and cut the line. Without even a goodbye kiss, the huge dark fish exploded toward the deepest water it could find. Tom collapsed back into the fighting chair, took the bottle of water from Catalina’s hand, and poured it over his head. He shook like a dog, soaking her thin, white tee shirt. She looked, laughed, and asked, “Do you want another one?”
The deckhands tied on a new leader and carefully wired an Islander/ballyhoo combination to the center rod. After the teasers and flat lines were back out, the boat came up to speed, and it was every hand on deck, except Tom, who, with Catalina beside him, retreated into the salon. She brought the bourbon on the rocks he asked for and settled on the couch beside him.
“You don’t have to talk,” she said. “You look exhausted.”
“That about covers it.” He nodded and held up the glass in a salute. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself? I can rest and listen while you talk.”
“Do you mean the ‘how did a nice little girl like me end up in a dump like this’ story?” There was an edge in her laugh.
“Doesn’t look like a dump to me,” Tom replied.
“It’s nice, I guess. We live on the boat and hardly ever go ashore. It’s better than where I was before. It’s just that sometimes the customers … well, they can be . . .”
“I can imagine. But surely . . .”
“I really shouldn’t talk about it. A lot of girls would love to have this job, rather than the bars or wherever. But you’re nice. You must think I’m awful.”
“Not at all, Catalina. We all do what we have to. You’re a lovely girl, and I’m sorry if you’re life isn’t … well, what you choose.”
She moved closer and leaned toward him. He could see healed track marks on her arms and guessed the rest of the story.
“Are you well treated here?”
“Oh, yes. There are rules, but we are well treated.”
“And how long have you been here?”
“About six months, I think. I’m not very good with time.”
“How about the rest of the crew? Have you gotten to know them?”
“That’s rule number one. We don’t talk about the crew or the owners or any other clients.”
“Sorry, I didn’t know.”
“It’s all right. I don’t know that much about your host anyway. When he flies in from his mountain, he doesn’t ever talk to us. He just wants—”
“Then you’ve seen him? Can you describe—”
“Catalina, we need you in the galley,” Javier called from the door behind them.
“Come back when you can, Catalina. I really want to talk with you more.”
“Okay, sure.” She looked nervously toward the galley door.
“Catalina, galley, now!” Javier repeated angrily.
“Fish on!” Gabe shouted.
The mate guided Gabe to the fighting chair and slammed the rod butt into the gimble between Gabe’s legs.
“Hit her, man, then reel like crazy. Don’t let her throw the hook.”
Gabe felt the boat moving forward, as the captain worked to straighten the lines while they were being pulled in, and put a strain on the fish.
“Reel faster, señor. Faster,” the mate encouraged.
The other lines were now in, and Gabe felt the boat slowing. “Keep that rod bent and the captain will start backing down on her. But as long as she’s taking line, he’s going to go forward.”
“Got it,” Gabe said, and braced his back against the chair and pushed hard with his legs to get leverage. The rod bent double, and Gabe cranked in line. He kept a rapid pace of pump and reel, pump and reel, and felt the boat shift into reverse and begin backing down on the fish.
“Bueno, bueno,” the mate commended. “You’re gaining on her.”
Gabe was beginning to feel the strain on his back and legs. How in the world did Tom, twenty years his senior, keep this up for nearly an hour?
Javier came into the salon, bringing Tom another bourbon on a silver tray, and sat down across from the couch in a comfortable swivel rocker. He put the silver tray on the low table between them. On the tray was a napkin, covering something Tom couldn’t see.
“The girl apologizes to you for what she said. She’s young and doesn’t always think before she speaks. She begs you to forgive her and forget what you’ve heard.”
“I heard nothing,” Tom said. “She was just being friendly, but she said nothing.”
“Bueno. I can assure you she will not be that foolish again.” As he spoke, Tom saw blood soaking through the linen napkin.
“Javier, this is a fishing trip. Nothing more. Please go easy on the girl.”
“Señor Bright, you need to understand, there is no such thing as easy on this side of the border. Catalina should have remembered that. Please keep that in mind the next time you have questions. You will be told what you need to know. Questions get people hurt. Enjoy your drink, Señor.”
As Javier left the room, Tom lifted the napkin. Beneath it was a finger, with bright blue polish.
Gabe held the strain on the fish until the boat moved over it. The mate photographed it with the GoPro, and a deckhand was able to grab the sword and bring the big blue marlin partially out of the water. With a shout of victory, they were able to release the J hook, and the beautiful fish was free. With her black eye gleaming, she paused, as if taking a photo of her own, then shook herself free of the deckhand and powered back down in the 600-foot-deep water. Cheers went up from the crew, who began washing down the deck and tackle. It was only an hour back to the dock.
Tom made the rounds with hundred-dollar bills for the crew, and then, expecting to see Javier again, lingered. After a few minutes, the mate returned to the cockpit.
“Javier has been called to a phone conference,” he said. “He wishes you safe travels and thanks you for your business.”
“Very well,” Tom said. “Until the next time.”
“What happened in the salon?” Gabe asked as they drove away from the marina.
“My fault. The girl slipped, but only a little. She said our host owns the boat and flies in from his mountain. She and her friend are escorts for the boss and his clients. Some of them have been less than gentlemen. She had tracks on her arms, well healed and she didn’t appear high. Also, she’s now missing a finger, one with bright blue polish.”
“What do you mean that was your fault?”
“I asked her what she knew about him and what he looks like. I think our fancy cruise director heard us. He hauled her off before she could say anything.”
“And they cut off her finger? That’s harsh.”
“I think it was a message for us. They are warning us it’s a harsh world.”
“No kidding. I just hope that’s all they do to her.”
Chapter 18
THAT NIGHT, MARIA MET TOM in the hotel bar for drinks and dinner. The mood was light and the conversation full of laughter. At a bit past ten they went for a walk on the beach, and the conversation became serious.
“I don’t think we can do anything for the Be
nson girls until Paul is safe,” Tom began. “If we go after the girls now, the cartel will most certainly kill Paul. I think that’s what cutting off the girl’s finger was about. It was a warning.”
“A girl’s body was found this afternoon on the breakwater. She was missing a finger,” Maria said.
“I was afraid of that. They couldn’t torture her and then let her live to talk about it. Damn, I feel bad about that. If I hadn’t started asking questions, she would still be alive.”
They walked for a while in silence before he spoke again. “What have you heard? Anything since last night?”
“We’ve gotten a lead on a jungle village near Coba. It’s isolated enough to be well protected. Coba once was a huge town of over fifty thousand, but that was hundreds of years ago and it’s mostly a big archaeological site and a ghost town now. We’re sending a recon team to check it out. Nothing yet on the girls.”
“How about the boss, El Patrón? Are you getting any closer there?”
“He doesn’t let me get close. When we meet it’s always somewhere neutral and always a new place. No names, no phone or any way to get photos, always a guard or two watching me like snakes on a rabbit. Nothing that could lead us to him. He’s smart, Tom. Deadly and smart.”
“Do you think he suspects you?”
“If he did, I’d be dead.” She looked into his eyes with a sad smile.
“Then what does he want from you, sex?”
“Do you mean do I sleep with him? No, he’s never approached me or acted like he wants to. He wears a wedding ring. Maybe he takes that seriously.”
“What else?”
“He wants to know everything about you and your team, about the Senator. I only give him what you’ve given me. He pays me well and I don’t think he suspects us. If he did . . .”
“I understand. I know we’ve talked about it before, but is there any chance you could get us pictures? We haven’t a clue what he looks like.”
“Like I said, I’m never allowed to have my phone, and they search me often. If I ever got caught with a camera they would kill me on the spot. Like I told you, he’s smart. Smart and paranoid.”
“Well, don’t push it. Stay safe.”
“I can tell you this: There’s something going on. I have no idea what it is, but he’s always busy and the men around him are nervous. Also, there were military guys, the Zapatistas. They were very respectful. I didn’t hear anything, I just saw them waiting to talk to him, and they looked nervous too. I’ll keep listening. But I’m sure they don’t trust me. They don’t trust anyone.”
“But you got your foot in the door. That’s more than anyone else has ever done. You’re the best. Just hang in there.”
He took her hand and they walked on in silence. The smell of sea and sound of the waves were intoxicating. They came to an overturned boat and sat on the hull looking up at the star-filled sky and leaning against each other. “When this is over,” he began.
“Stop,” she said. “This is what we both live for, and there’s only one way it will ever be over, so don’t make promises you can’t keep. I know what’s in your heart, and I’m there with you. That’s enough for now. Let the future be. The future will unfold as it will.”
“I suppose you’re right, but we’ve been pushing our luck for a lot of years, and there are times …”
“Remember, men make plans, and what does God do?”
“I remember. God laughs. But that doesn’t mean we can’t have dreams. You and me on the ranch, spoiling the grandkids.”
“Keep dreaming, Grandpa. How about you and me in the islands with a lot of boat drinks busting bad guys? That’s the way I want to retire. You keep talking about rocking chairs on the front porch and I’m going to start wondering if you’re getting old?”
Tom chuckled. “Not too old to keep you happy.”
She hugged his arm. “And don’t I know it.”
Paul waited until everything was quiet in the hall. Then he quietly slipped from his bed, dropped to the stone floor, and did push-ups. He got to fifteen and was in agony. He lay on the floor panting. He rested and then started again. Another fifteen and he collapsed. He rolled on his back and tried a leg lift. He cried out in pain, then heard someone coming to his door.
The girl came in, turned on the light, and quickly closed the door behind her. She put her finger to her lips, cautioning him to remain silent, knelt beside him, and examined the dressings on his wounds.
His abdominal dressing was spotted with blood. She went to a supply cabinet by the bed, got fresh gauze pads, and after washing the wound with disinfectant, taped on new pads.
“You must be careful not to fall again,” she said. She put a finger to her lips, then pointed to the small microphone in the ceiling above the door. “You could pull out your stitches. You’re not healed yet.”
“Can you give me something for the pain? It hurts like crazy.”
“Si, I will bring you something. Just be more careful. Do you want me to help you?” She put her arm around him and helped him up. She moved slowly and close as he regained his balance.
He leaned against her as they walked to the bathroom. When they got to the door, she smiled, then gave him a small piece of paper that he opened and read. It said simply, “Angelica.”
She took his hand and squeezed it gently then pointed to the toilet. He understood and flushed the note. Then, holding hands, she led him back to bed and tucked him in. She lingered by the bed for a moment, still holding his hand, smiled at him a smile that kept her teeth hidden, and then left him alone.
He wondered what had just happened. Why had she risked so much just to give him her name?
He lay in bed gazing up at the single window, with moonlight gently filling the room. He was thinking about how she felt snuggled against him and wondered what was happening? She reentered the room with a small medicine cup and two pills. She offered them to him but shook her head negatively. “These will help you sleep,” she said loud enough for the microphone, but then took the pills and put them in his pillowcase. She looked at him again and asked, “Do you need anything else?” She nodded and pointed toward the bathroom. Before he could answer, she handed him another note.
He held it up to the light and read silently: “I have a plan, but you must be strong.” He looked at her with great surprise. She put her finger on his lips. Then she pointed to the commode, but then took the note and flushed it for him. She double-checked to make certain it was gone, then returned to his bedside. She squeezed his hand and smiled, her decayed teeth slightly exposed in what was otherwise quite an attractive face.
Angelica. If ever he’d ever needed an angel’s help, now was the time.
Tom’s cell phone rang just before dawn. He looked at the number and all he saw was “Unavailable.” Maria was in the shower. He got up and answered, then stepped into the bathroom doorway.
“Hello.”
“Hola, amigo,” a friendly voice began. “No Spanish this morning, Captain? Well, that’s all right, amigo. It’s time for you to be going home anyway. Back to your rancho and your lovely daughter and her niña.”
Tom quickly put the phone on speaker and record. He waved at Maria to join him. She turned off the water and stepped from the shower wrapped in a towel.
“All right. When do we leave?” Tom asked.
“Two days, I think. The weather will be good, and we will have your plane ready.”
“And our destination?”
“Not so soon, amigo. I’ll let you know that in plenty of time.”
“In time for what?”
“Time to land before you run out of petrol—that would be good, don’t you think?” He laughed.
Tom was silent.
“What about my friend? Will he be flying back with me?”
“No, we think it will be best if he continues to enjoy the pleasures of our beautiful country until your job is done. Then you can take him home.”
“I’m going to want someone on the
right seat. It’s a long flight and sometimes I get sleepy.”
“Oh, I have someone in mind, don’t worry about that. He flies too, so you will have nothing to worry about.”
“I see.”
“Good. Just one more thing. No phones. We’ll be monitoring your radio, so you won’t be needing your phone. Comprende?”
“I understand.”
“Bueno, we’ll send a car for you at seven on Thursday. That will give you time to eat and be ready. We’ll talk again before you leave. Enjoy the rest of your vacation.”
There was a sinister laugh, and the phone went silent.
Tom double-checked his phone to make certain it was off before speaking. “Was that him? El Patrón?”
“I think so. The connection wasn’t that good, so it’s hard to be certain, but I think so.”
“Good. I’ll run this through the NSA’s voice recognition software. Perhaps we’ll get lucky.”
“Be careful, Tom. Remember how dangerous he is. Dangerous and powerful.”
“Two days. That’s all we’ve got to find Paul and those girls.” He paced the floor like a caged cat, ran his hands through his thinning white hair, then said again, “Two days.”
Chapter 19
ANGELICA BROUGHT PAUL’S BREAKFAST OF fruit and eggs, and when she crossed the room to his bed, she seemed to be walking oddly. She put down the tray, reached beneath her scrubs, and gave him two extra bananas. When she raised the scrub top to pull them from her waistband, he saw dark bruises over her abdomen. When she handed them to him, he saw more bruises on her arms. “Eat,” she said. “And try to walk as much as you can. Your stitches look good, and you need the exercise. I’ll bring you some shoes.”
She looked carefully around the room, made certain the door was closed, and handed him another note. It read, “You must be strong. We may have to walk far and even swim. It will be hard. But we must go.”