Alice did not respond. Let the voice tell her whether it meant harm or ill.
“Look, there’s a knife in the tackle box down there. It’s long and sharp. Take it if it makes you feel better. I do not mean you harm, Alice Sangerman.”
Alice stifled a gasp. Well, it stood to reason he knew her if he was the one who saved her from Guzman’s trap.
She jumped as she heard a sudden metallic rattle.
“That was my gun, okay? I dropped it. you’ll see it as you open the door. Gently, please, just push it outward. It isn’t locked. I’m standing at the back of the boat, hands over my head.”
Alice reached out a bare foot and pressed the middle of the center hinged cabin door. It gave a bit. She lashed out, and the door slammed open, probably not hard enough to break it. She rapidly blinked her eyes to adjust them to the morning light. True to his word, the man stood with his hands clasped behind his head. He looked past forty and balding but still strong, lean, and fit. He wore a white sleeveless shirt and black shorts, with bare feet on the rocking deck. On the deck also lay an odd-looking black gun, looking sort of like a cross between an automatic pistol and an assault rifle, with a thick silencer on the barrel. She moved to it quickly and picked it up, sliding the knife into her belt with the same motion. Zittara, said the sometimes-annoying voice in her head, Indian special forces weapon of choice.
“Careful. It’s loaded.”
Alice glared at him. “Are you the one who picked me up in Miami?”
“Yeah. I was undercover in Guzman’s operation. I heard his plans to set up a snatch and grab of a woman who had killed his business partner. An assassin. Then I saw the picture and realized it was you.”
“Do I know you?”
“Not really, no. I saw you a few times, long time ago. I doubt you’d remember. I was in a crowd.”
“I… I can’t remember much about my past. I had an… injury.” She touched the scar on the side of her forehead.
“Head wounds will do that to the… uh, look, well, my name is Jacob Castellan. I know about your father. I’m on your side.”
“I’m not sure what side I’m on. I’m trying to find out what happened to my friend. She was killed. I was wounded. I can’t remember the people in my life before I got shot. Like my father. We might be enemies.”
“Well, Guzman…”
“He was going to help me find out… what I’m carrying. He knew my friend.” A scene of this new man, who said his name was Jacob, gun blazing, and Tomas Guzman falling, covered in roses, flashed in her head. No, not roses. Spatters of blood. “You… shot him.”
“He was in the process of kidnapping you. I stopped him.”
“Maybe he was taking me to a place he felt comfortable enough to talk. I didn’t need rescuing! I can take care of myself!”
“Can you? Did you feel lightheaded just before Guzman’s men shot you with a tranquilizer?”
Alice thought back. Her memories of the attack were fuzzy. She remembered wanting to dance, as if the signs on the water truck were talking to her.
“I felt a bit funny.”
“That was ‘devil’s breath.’ It’s a drug that makes people act as though they are hypnotized. Also known as scopolamine. He had planned to give it to you in a drink if you didn’t give him what he wanted. He said you were an expert fighter, so he planned to use that to get you off your guard.”
“He attacked me with a knife! Why would he do that if he planned to drug me anyway?”
“I don’t know. He had only old photographs of you to go by, so maybe he wanted to make sure it was you. You were disguised, right?”
“He wanted to make sure it was me by attacking me?”
“Tomas was very good with a knife. There are not that many people who could disarm him.”
“Oh. So when I fought back, I gave myself away. Awesome.” Alice lowered the Zittara, letting it hang at her side. “So why did he want to kidnap me?”
“I’ve some ideas. Can I put my hands down now?”
Alice looked around, really seeing something else other than her big, hairy rescuer for the first time. Maybe the drugs still affected her. They were in a strange boat. It looked to be about twenty-five feet long, with two hulls and two motors. It floated in a small river surrounded by dense, green vegetation with sand at its base, and the boat seemed to be anchored. One of the motors tilted up out of the water with its cover off. Rusty tools lay on the seat behind Castellan. The searing Florida sun reflected brightly off the white deck of the boat.
“Yes, but keep your hands where I can see them.”
Castellan dropped his hands to his side, palms out.
“Where are we?” Alice asked.
“Between two nameless keys. In fact, dead ahead is No Name Key. The port motor needed some attention.”
“It was just at the start of Monday evening when you… shot Guzman. Now it’s Tuesday morning?”
“Yes, about nine. May I sit down? I’ve been driving while you slept.”
Alice looked around at the worn-looking vessel. “You drove… we drove… this thing here? From Miami?”
“Yeah. It’s about one hundred forty miles. The radar is out, so I had to go slow in the dark. I was headed for Big Pine Key to fuel up.”
“Where in the hell are you thinking to take me after we do that?”
“We talked about this last night, Alice.” Jacob looked hard at her, wrinkling his tanned forehead. Alice noted that the wrinkles went well up into his receding hairline. “You don’t remember?”
“I’ve some memory problems, but usually that only affects my memories of people in my past, before I was shot. Usually I remember the previous night!”
“The drugs Guzman gave you… are pretty strong. You woke up from the tranquilizer in about an hour. Then you raved for a while. I’m not really sure what you were talking about then. Dragons, a strange disease, a necklace.”
Alice clutched at her throat. Still there. Right, you checked when you woke up.
“After a while, you just talked about the necklace. You showed it to me.” Jacob inclined his head toward her hand. “You said you saw your friend murdered right after she gave it to you, and you were trying to find out why from Guzman. I looked at your necklace. I think I know someone who can help you find out what it is.”
“How can they do that?”
Jacob gestured away from the rising sun. “I’ve a… a friend who lives down here. She might be able to…”
Alice raised the gun. “So last night, when I was on Guzman’s drugs, you interrogated me and then decided to bring me to some isolated spot where you thought you could take my necklace and dump me in the ocean. That’s what I’m thinking, mister. Convince me I’m wrong!”
Castellan raised his palm to his face, rubbing it. He did look tired, Alice thought.
“After we talked about this last night, you fell asleep. Right there.” He pointed at the deck next to where she stood. “One minute we were talking, the next you sat down, and then you were lying on the deck. I carried you into the cabin. You have been sleeping as if you were dead for the last six hours. If I wanted to take your necklace, I would have already done it. I want to help, Alice.”
“Why?”
“I worked for the FBI. On corporate crime. Investigated your father’s death. Some of us thought it might not have been from natural causes. I… I got fired a few months ago.” Castellan’s shoulders slumped. “Since then I’ve been working the case on my own, undercover. I found out about a job on Guzman’s protection team. Guzman used to work for an associate of your father. I was hoping I could find out more about him through Guzman. Your father’s friend is dead now, though. His name was Peter Moore.”
Alice gasped.
“You know him?”
She recovered herself. “Peter Moore is… no, was… my friend’s father. The friend who gave me this.” She grasped the necklace.
“But you don’t remember him?”
“No, I… I got shot.” Her hand dropped
her necklace, and her index finger touched her head.
“Right.” Castellan looked at her scar for a moment and then at her eyes. “That looks like a bad one.”
“Yeah, it hurt. I’m getting over it.” Alice dropped her hand. The heat brought beads of sweat to her forehead. Her underarms were damp with it, and she could feel it dripping down her back. She shaded her eyes and looked at Castellan. “So why did Guzman want to take me prisoner?”
“He had just been warned by someone that Moore’s killer returned to Moore’s office in Tampa and removed a photo with Guzman in it. Guzman had a picture of the killer. He showed it to us at a briefing. I recognized you from my research. As the new guy, I was assigned by Guzman to watch out for Miami PD, so it was pretty easy to circle back to his ambush spot. Luckily, I had just purchased this fine vessel here a few weeks before. I was keeping it at the docks in front of Guzman’s building.”
Alice looked around. She saw faded, mold-spotted seats, cracked fiberglass, and one motor half apart. “You paid money for this?”
“Hey, it’s a good boat. It got us here.” Jacob looked at her shyly. “I call it the Lazy Lightning.”
“I think you got robbed. Seriously, Jacob, it’s pretty junky.” After she said them, she realized the words sounded rude. Her left hand flew to her mouth of its own accord. Thanks, hand, but the horse has left the barn.
“Well, it isn’t pretty, but it’s a work boat, a real fishing machine. Solid. This boat will last a lifetime.”
“Because it will fall apart in the middle of the ocean, and you’ll die.” Shoot, I did it again!
Castellan laughed. “All right, Princess Sangerman. We’ll get a better boat as soon as we can. I know it’s not what a daughter of the famous billionaire Sam Sangerman is used to.”
Alice gaped at him then. “My father is… was a billionaire?”
Castellan lifted the faded motor cover and placed it back on the port motor. He said over his shoulder, “Your father was many things. I’d be happy to tell you all about him, but it’s hot and only seven thirty. We need to go over to Big Pine Key to get some gas, and then we can head to my friend’s house on Sugarloaf and get out of the sun.”
Alice looked at the faded gray cases on the motors. “Assuming you can get those things started.”
“They’ll start—no problem. You see that bulb there?”
Alice looked where Jacob pointed, to a black tube that snaked across to the motor on the right side of the twin-hulled boat.
“Yeah.”
“Squeeze it until it’s tight. Please.” Alice looked at the gun in her hand and then at Jacob. She put the Zittara on the bench seat of the boat.
“So that is how you get this old thing started?”
“It helps.”
She noticed him looking at her. “You’re going to squeeze your side, or is it too hard for you, old-timer?”
“Ha!” Jacob boomed. “Yes ma’am, I’ll get right to it.”
After a bit, Jacob turned back to the console and started the motors. Both gave out a good bit of smoke and noise but soon settled down to a steady coughing sound that Alice hoped they were supposed to make.
“See, I told you they would start!”
Alice shrugged.
Jacob hopped up to the front of the boat and hauled in the anchor. Alice noticed that his hairy skin covered well-defined muscles. He may have been old, but he obviously kept in shape. Jacob scampered back from the front of the boat and dug in the big cooler beneath the driver’s seat. “Regular or unleaded?”
“Huh?”
Jacob held up two cans of Pepsi, one blue and one gray.
“Do you have any Red Bull?”
“No, sorry.”
“Ah, too bad. I got some when I drove from Tampa to Miami. It’s awesome!”
Jacob laughed. “’Fraid all I have is the real thing here. The real things.” He held up the cans again.
“That one.” Alice pointed at the gray one.
He tossed it to her. “I’ve got a couple PBJs in here, also, if you’re hungry.”
Alice’s stomach growled. “Yes, please.”
He tossed her a sandwich wrapped in plastic, which she tore off, and she began to wolf down the sandwich.
“Good to see Guzman’s drugs didn’t kill your appetite!”
She smiled sheepishly around a mouthful. “Sorry, other than some peanuts, the last time I ate was breakfast yesterday. Didn’t realize it until you said something.”
Jacob pointed at the Zittara. “All right with you if I stow that?”
Alice thought about it. If he had wanted to harm her, he would have done it while she lay unconscious. “Might as well, I’m not going to shoot you, and I don’t guess a man who shares his PBJs has murder on his mind.”
Jacob started to say something and then just saluted her. He grabbed the gun and went into the cabin. When he came out a few seconds later, he said, “It’s in a storage locker under the mattress. In case you need it.”
While they spoke, the boat drifted downwind toward the entrance to the little bay they were on. Alice could see land faintly in the distance.
“Hold on,” Jacob said and pushed the throttles forward. The engines that had been muttering quietly, roared, and the boat leaped up onto a fast plane. As they emerged from the sheltered water between the two keys and entered the bay, the twin hulls cut easily through the two-foot tall, closely-spaced waves.
Alice needed to shout to be heard above the motors, the waves, and the wind. “Where are we headed?”
Jacob pointed ahead. “Do you see that bridge?”
Alice looked where he pointed and saw that what previously, from a greater distance, had appeared to be a single expanse of green was separating into two islands with a narrow channel between them, crossed by a long, low bridge.
She nodded, and then seeing that his eyes were focused carefully at the water ahead, she said, “Yes!”
“Just under the bridge is a marina. We’ll get gas there.”
In the water she noticed numerous small white buoys that Jacob was steering to avoid.
“What are those?”
“Crab and lobster traps,” Jacob shouted.
Looking down, Alice saw the water was very clear, and she could see flashes of color from corals and bright green grass they passed over. Between these clumps of life, the sand shone with a startling white color, making the sea bottom seem as if it was only inches from the surface. Alice looked over at the dashboard-mounted depth sounder, relieved to see that it was reporting two- to three-foot-deep water.
As they pulled up to a gas dock, she saw several other boats tied up there already. According to a sun-faded sign, they had arrived at the Old Wooden Bridge Marina. A boat with no one in it sat blocking the gas pump, so Jacob put the motors in reverse and bumped the throttles a few times to bring the boat to a stop.
“How long ago was that built?” Alice asked Jacob, pointing at the bridge.
“Just a few years ago. It used to be all wood, but they replaced that with concrete recently. The marina was named for the old bridge. That store was built in 1943, back when the bridge was still wooden.”
She looked sideways at him. “Do you come here often?”
“My family used to have a cabin down here. I’ve spent lots of time in the keys. This is a good place to refuel.”
Boats of all sizes lay anchored all along the bridge, most with several fishing poles in holders or hands, their lines extending into the water.
Jacob noticed her looking at the boats. “They say this is some of the best bridge fishing in the Keys. I’ve only tried it once—caught a fine flounder and some jacks.”
At last, four loud, fat men appeared and loaded the long, blue boat in front of them with what seemed like a year’s worth of Budweiser and Doritos. They finally moved out of the way of the single gas pump. Jacob grabbed one of the metal tubes holding up the boat’s fiberglass hardtop and pulled the boat forward.
As he pumped th
e gas, Alice said, “You mind if I leave you to this and go find a restroom?”
Just then they heard a wolf whistle as the fat guys drove by, leering. Alice glared at them.
Jacob said, “Promise you won’t start a war with the locals?”
“Hey, I can handle the four fat-scateers if you can’t.”
“Yeah, well I’m worried that Guzman’s people might still be looking for us. A woman beating the pulp out of a boat full of fishermen will make the papers.”
“Got it.”
“Also, you might scare people.” Jacob pointed at the naked fishing knife still stuck in her belt.
“Right.” She took the knife and laid it on the gunnel. “Put this away, please.” Totally disarmed now, she leaped out of the boat. As she walked barefoot up the wooden dock toward the shop where a painted brown sign advertised “Bathrooms Here,” she thought about leaving Jacob Castellan and his beat-up vessel behind. She could find a way to the mainland, retrieve her rental car, and get back to hunting for Sara’s killer. However, Jacob seemed to be the best lead she had found so far. Well, the best lead still alive. She wanted to know more about the necklace Sara had died to give her.
The small unisex bathroom smelled of overloaded air freshener and other things she did not want to think about. She shook her head. That didn’t help.
As she left the toilet, she smelled her hair, sure that some of the odor would linger. She wrinkled her nose. Several days had passed since she had washed it last. At least her hair didn’t seem to have picked up anything worse than sweat and boat-mattress smells.
Alice walked back down to the boat as Jacob finished up with the fueling. “The old girl had her fill?”
“Yeah, sixty gallons in each tank. She is a thirsty old gal. But that is enough to take us to my sister’s and then back to Miami.”
“Your sister’s! I thought it was ‘a friend.’”
“Well, my sister Nanette is my friend also, but yeah, she has been staying in her house on Sugarloaf Key while her daughter recovers from chemo.”
“Chemo?”
“For leukemia. She is a great kid. Not a lucky kid, but great. They’ve been down on Sugarloaf for several months. Anna loves snorkeling in the keys, and there are nice reefs off Sugarloaf. It’s been a good way for her to recover from treatment.”
The Gift of the Dragon Page 14