Bluewater Killer: A Serial Murder Mystery Set In Florida and the Caribbean (Bluewater Thrillers Book 1)

by Charles Dougherty

  "If the two men are in there, we'll take them first, both at the same time, if we can. Knock them out; zip ties, duct tape. Right?"

  Sharktooth nodded.

  "Then we'll work our way aft. The captain's cabin is probably up aft of the bridge. The engineer probably bunks down amidships. I'll go up and take the captain; you take the engineer. Once he's tied and gagged, bring him along, come find me and we'll see what he and Julio can tell us about Baliceaux. Okay so far?"

  Sharktooth nodded. Phillip sat quietly, thinking. Sharktooth waited.

  "I think your idea is the best, Sharktooth. They got drunk, and argued. The captain shot the engineer, then realized what he had done and shot himself. Happens sometimes, yes?"

  Sharktooth nodded.

  "I've still got one of those cheap little .38s. Remember them?"

  "Argentina?" Sharktooth raised his eyebrows.

  Phillip nodded. "We'll take it, just in case the captain doesn't have a gun. Better if he uses his own gun, but if he doesn't have one, we'll lend him one. I'm sure those cheap .38s are still scattered all up and down the islands, so it won't look out of place on a crappy little freighter."

  Sharktooth went below and came back with two cold soft drinks, knowing from previous ventures with Phillip how he felt about alcohol when he was working. They settled back on the cockpit cushions to wait.

  ****

  Phillip noticed as his flashlight swept across a clock on the bulkhead in the captain's cabin that it was 3:25 a.m. Everything had gone according to plan, so far. The two crewmen had duct tape over their mouths and their eyes before they were awake, and they were secured in the forecastle for now. Sharktooth had gone below in search of the engineer. The noise of a generator was audible throughout the ship, conveniently masking the various little scraping and bumping sounds that Sharktooth and Phillip had made as they felt their way around in the dark. The captain was snoring, loudly. Phillip decided to wake him up. He was sure he could keep him entertained until Sharktooth and the engineer joined them. He reached out and shook the man, none too gently. The captain sat up quickly, the reflex action a result of years at sea, no doubt. He was immediately awake.

  "Qué pasa?" he asked, turning on the cabin lights, momentarily dazzling Phillip. "Quién es?" he asked, looking at Phillip with his one eye.

  "You speak English?" Phillip asked, roughly, shoving his flashlight into the man's solar plexus as he tried to stand. He doubled over and sat down hard on the edge of his berth, gasping for air. Phillip stood over him, waiting until he recovered.

  "I asked you a question, Julio," he said in a conversational tone. "It is better for you if you answer me."

  "Sí, okay. Yes," the man said, still sitting, trying to catch his breath.

  The cabin light flickered and went out, and the generator stopped. The captain seized the chance to deliver a head butt to Phillip's chin, knocking him down and stunning him for a moment. Phillip shook his head, trying to clear his vision as he got to his feet. Just as he stood up, the captain turned from the drawer by his berth, a rusty revolver in his hand, pointed at Phillip.

  "Now I will ask the questions," Julio said, then yelled in pain as he grabbed his right wrist. Phillip's foot had moved so fast that Julio never saw the kick that broke his wrist. Phillip picked up the gun from the cabin sole.

  "You're going to need this later, Julio. I'll just keep it for you," Phillip said, as the generator and the lights came back on. He put the pistol into a small waist pack and pulled out two zip ties. I'm going to put these on you now. You can make it easy, or not. Your choice."

  The captain glared at him for a minute, fury in his one eye. Then he looked down and extended his arms toward Phillip, wrists together. He winced as Phillip tightened the tie around his right wrist, already swelling from the damage wrought by Phillip's blindingly fast kick. Phillip had just shoved him back to a sitting position on the berth behind him when Sharktooth came in.

  "Irie," Sharktooth said, an evil grin displaying his collection of gold teeth.

  "Where's the engineer?" Phillip asked.

  "He have a accident. He fall in the 'lectricicals, stop the generator. Stop he, too. He try to run away. 'Lectricicals very dangerous. You need one more engineer, Julio," Sharktooth said, pulling the gleaming filet knife from his waistband. "Julio look hot, Phillip. Okay I he'p he take he shirt off? Cool he down some?"

  Phillip nodded, and Sharktooth made a graceful, waving motion around the seated man with the hand that held the knife. Julio's shirt fell away in three pieces as he screamed, in fear or pain. Phillip wasn't sure which.

  "Uh-oh, I cut he, Phillip. Nassabad, though. Jus' a wee bit. Need to get practice again," Sharktooth said, running a banana-sized index finger along the thin red line on top of Julio's shoulder as a few drops of blood oozed out.

  "Not so bad is right, Sharktooth. It's not your fault. I saw him move. I don't think you would have cut him if he had been still. You think if I stand him up, you can take his pants off without cutting him?"

  "Don' know. I try." Sharktooth turned on the evil grin, licking his filet knife as he gave a bone-chilling laugh. The cabin lights gleamed on his bald head as his dreadlocks shook with his demented laughter. Phillip was a little worried that he had truly gone around the bend.

  Phillip jerked the captain to his feet, turning him to face Sharktooth. ''What do you want?" the captain asked. "I have the drugs. I show you. Give them to you. Maybe you can get away before my bosses catch you. You could be rich, maybe."

  "That's the way, Julio. Sharktooth can practice another time, if you'd rather talk to me."

  "Yes, yes, Mister Phillip. What do you wish to know?"

  Julio told Sharktooth and Phillip all about the operation at Baliceaux, including the names that he knew, the routines of the establishment, and the number of guards and their normal patrolling arrangements. As Phillip and J.-P. had suspected, the people on the island felt secure. Their competitors didn't know of their existence, and the local authorities were their allies.

  Before Phillip and Sharktooth left, Sharktooth made another showy sweep with the filet knife, and the zip ties fell away from Julio's wrists. Sharktooth handed Julio his rusty little revolver, and Julio, apparently overcome with remorse for his evil ways, or perhaps by Sharktooth's superior strength, put the muzzle in his mouth. With only a little help from Sharktooth, he was able to pull the trigger, even with his swollen wrist. There was a loud snap, as the primer in the corroded bullet casing failed to ignite the powder, and Julio had to try a second time.

  Sharktooth bowed his head and made the sign of the cross over him, while Phillip gathered up everything that they had brought aboard. They went back to the forecastle, gave the two crewmen each a gentle tap on their heads to put them to sleep, and took off the duct tape and the zip ties.

  No longer worried about stealth, they cranked the outboard and went back to Kayak Spirit. Phillip was hoping for a nap before Sharktooth got involved in preparing his next meal.

  Chapter 29

  Phillip had enjoyed a brief nap, and while Sharktooth was cooking breakfast, he took the dinghy to the yacht club. He was the first in line at the Customs and Immigration office, and he quickly secured his outbound clearance for Union Island. He was back aboard Kayak Spirit by 8:10, and he and Sharktooth had stowed the dinghy and gotten under way by 8:30. After an early morning check-in with J.-P., they had decided to sail to Mustique today. Union Island was the first port of entry into Saint Vincent and the Grenadines on their way north, and it was convenient for a quick stop. It would be a push to get to Union today before the customs and immigration offices closed, but they had a fair wind, about 20 knots out of the southeast, and full diesel tanks. They would have to make it, even if they kept the diesel running the whole way. Once they cleared in at Union Island, Mustique was only another 20 miles. They should be there by late evening, and they planned to pick up one of the moorings in Britannia Bay. The moorings were expensive, priced to keep the riffraff out, bu
t the people in the big houses liked to have a few visiting yachts in the harbor to enhance their view.

  It was only three miles from Britannia Bay to Landing Bay on Baliceaux, and Kayak Spirit would be hidden in plain view among the other visiting vessels in Britannia Bay. They would take the dinghy for the short run to Baliceaux in the early hours of tomorrow morning. They were gambling that there would be no delivery in progress at Baliceaux, but Phillip reasoned that it would be easy enough to abort and come back later if they found Landing Bay occupied. If things went smoothly, they would be back on Kayak Spirit with Dani before sunrise, and they would leave for Bequia promptly. They would be in Bequia by mid-morning, where Phillip planned to clear out and leave immediately. He wanted to be out of Saint Vincent's waters before anyone discovered what had happened on Baliceaux. He would not mention Dani on the clearance documents, which was illegal, but he didn't have a passport for her, so he had no other option but to conceal her presence. Their next stop would be Martinique, which was 90 miles away. It was a long haul, but the French islands were notoriously lax about paperwork for yachts. The French knew what made a destination attractive to tourist trade, and it didn't involve lots of official paperwork. Besides, Dani was a French citizen, and Phillip had a solid connection at the Customs office in Marin, where he would clear in. Sharktooth would fly home from Martinique, and Dani could recuperate from her ordeal at Phillip's place.

  That was their plan, except for the details of freeing Dani. They had learned from Julio that there were no other captives being held on Baliceaux at the moment. He had explained that she was in a cell that was fitted out as a 2-bed infirmary, and she was under the care of a well-qualified medic, with two military-trained nurses to assist. The three women were there because, "…sometime, the women we bring, they are not so well, and Rosa, she take care of them, so they sell better, for more money." The holding area for the women was a motel-like structure covered with camouflage netting to prevent notice from the aircraft that were frequently in the area. From the little harbor, Landing Bay, it was about 300 yards up the hillside, in a northerly direction. There was a path from the harbor, but neither the structure nor the path could be seen from the harbor. There were also three men who served as security guards and stevedores. They lived in a rough structure right on the shore of the harbor. It had been a fisherman's camp, at some point. Merchandise was stored on pallets under camouflage tarps in the woods, immediately behind their camp. The men were normally armed. Julio didn’t think that the women were armed but he didn't know. He said that they had all been soldiers -- Rosa, the boss, in Cuba and Angola, and the other two in Venezuela. Phillip knew better than to underestimate them. He and Sharktooth would assume everybody but Dani was dangerous. Julio's final contribution was that "El Jefe," the big boss, called Big Jim, usually came to the island only when a shipment was expected. He lived on Mustique, but Julio didn't know his real name.

  As they sailed from Grenada to Union Island, Sharktooth and Phillip alternated, one sailing, the other resting. They had only slept a few hours last night before their visit to Erzulie Freda, and they had a couple of hard days ahead of them. Veteran campaigners, they took rest where they could. They both knew that sleep and food always improved the odds of success. They anchored behind the reef in Clifton Harbor on Union Island at about four o'clock, and Phillip waved down a local boat and caught a ride ashore to save the time of assembling his dinghy. He gave the fisherman $10 E.C. and two cold beers to drop him at the main freight dock, just across the street from Customs. He cleared customs with 15 minutes to spare before the office closed, and took a taxi to the airport to the immigration office there. The officer was idle, as there were no flights for a couple of hours, and Phillip was finished quickly. He went back outside to look for a taxi, and found the driver who brought him, flirting with the ladies in the tourist office. Phillip was back on Kayak Spirit and they were under way for Mustique by five o'clock.

  Phillip figured that they would arrive in Mustique and pick up a mooring or, if all the moorings were taken, they would anchor. It would be too late for anyone to collect the fee. If their business went smoothly, they might be gone before the harbormaster showed up the next morning, in which case there would be no record of their visit. He was hoping that it would work out that way. He and Sharktooth were both well rested and awake on this leg of their journey. They used the time to refine their plans for their coming raid on Baliceaux.

  They both favored the window of time between three and four in the morning. Even most night owls had gone to sleep by then, and any sentries who were awake were likely to be groggy from boredom. They figured from what Julio told them that there would be no guard on duty, but they were both still alive because they were cautious. After a look at the chart showing the island and the reefs around the southern tip, they decided to land the dinghy in the large cove to the north of Landing Bay. They would kill the outboard and paddle the last half mile of their three-mile trip, to avoid making noise that might announce their approach. Landing in the northern cove would put a ridgeline between them and the camp in the harbor. They would ready the dinghy for a hasty departure, just in case, and swim or wade across the reef on the point between their landing spot and Landing Bay. Once around the point, they would go ashore and work their way through the brush to approach the guards' camp from the rear. They would eliminate the three guards, silently if possible, with silenced weapons otherwise, and go up to the house. They planned to lock Rosa and her two aides in one of the unoccupied cells, find Dani, and leave as quietly as they came.

  ****

  Phillip and Sharktooth were hip deep in the warm, calm water. They had tied the dinghy to a large piece of driftwood along the steep stretch of shoreline at their chosen spot. Phillip was relieved that they didn't have to beach the dinghy; that would have slowed their departure. He didn't expect to be in a hurry, but it was best to avoid potential complications. You never knew what could go wrong. They were able wade over the coral reef that came out from the north point of Landing Bay, which eliminated one of Phillip's worries. They might have to carry Dani back to the dinghy, and it would be better if they didn't have to swim with her in tow. As they rounded the point, they could see into Landing Bay. The moon was near full, and the slivery light rendered the landscape in eerie tones, not quite black and white, but colors weren't distinguishable, either. There was less vegetation than they had expected, so they moved from rock to rock, making the most of the little cover that they found. They were working their way along the shoreline of Landing Bay, about 50 yards uphill from the water. Phillip was in the lead, and Sharktooth was about 10 paces behind him, far enough so that if someone spotted Phillip, they would most likely mistake him for a lone intruder. They carried silenced .40 caliber pistols, but both preferred edged weapons for this sort of work. It was almost a matter of pride with Phillip. If he had to shoot someone, he counted it as a failure of planning or execution, and he didn't like failure of any kind.

  Phillip stopped, dropping to a crouch, and looked around, listening intently as his eyes scanned the silvery landscape. He could barely make out Sharktooth, but saw that he, too, was melting into the rocky hillside, motionless. Satisfied that they were unobserved, Phillip took careful note of his immediate surrounding. He had stopped because the character of the terrain underfoot had changed abruptly. He had come upon a well-worn path, perpendicular to his direction of travel. That would be the path from the camp at Landing Bay up to the compound where Dani was being held. He motioned Sharktooth forward and pointed out the path. Sharktooth nodded. They turned to their right and started down the hill toward the camp, Phillip a few yards to the right of the path, Sharktooth a few yards to the left. They came upon the goods stored on pallets, low, bulky shapes in the moonlight, within a few paces. They went around opposite sides of the stash, and as soon as they could see one another again, they spotted the back wall of the shack. They maintained their separation from each other and moved forward, planning to r
ound the sides and converge on the entrance, which was on the other side of the structure.

  As Phillip approached the back corner, he smelled stale cooking odors, and he could hear snoring. It didn't take much of an ear to realize that there were at least two participants in the nocturnal concert. He concentrated on the rhythms, and then began to separate the higher and lower pitched sounds. Three. All of them were asleep. He reached the front corner and peered around it, keeping his body pressed to the wall. He made out Sharktooth doing the same. Sharktooth grinned at him, moonlight glinting on the gold teeth. Phillip held up three fingers on his right hand and then folded his hands together, putting them against the side of his face as he tipped his head to the side. Sharktooth nodded. Phillip stood and stepped quietly around the corner, Sharktooth mirroring his movements until they came together at the doorway in the front wall of the shack. With the coordination that came from having done this sort of thing together before, Phillip stepped in and to the left as Sharktooth stepped in and to the right. Two members of the chorus were silenced abruptly as knives entered their kidneys, strong hands covering their mouths and pinning them in place briefly. The men died almost soundlessly, and Phillip was surprised to turn and find the third man awake and charging him. Light sleeper, he thought, as he pivoted at the hip and slammed the sole of his right foot into the man's sternum, lifting him clear of the floor. Before Phillip recovered from his kick, he saw a huge brown arm snake around the man's neck from the back. Sharktooth put his other hand on the crown of the man's head. There was a muffled snap, and he laid the man back in his bed.

  Phillip and Sharktooth held their silence. They went back to the trail, retracing their steps, and worked their way quietly up the hill, each a few yards off the path. There was still the possibility that Big Jim was on the island, or that one of the women was awake. They reached the little building without any further excitement. It looked like a seedy motel with 10 rooms, each having a door onto the long, roofed front porch. They started at opposite ends, knowing that Rosa and her helpers had an apartment made by combining the two rooms in the center. Sharktooth worked from the left end; Phillip from the right, converging on the two rooms in the center. There was an unlocked padlock hanging on each door. Sharktooth opened the unlocked doors as he went, finding each room empty. Phillip did the same, until he reached the door next to the two in the center. He looked over and saw Sharktooth watching him, waiting for him to approach the two remaining doors. He pointed at the lock on the door where he stood.