The Atlas Murders

by John Molloy

  “Yes thank you, a great bit of shut eye and I’m ready to let you two have a few hours if you think I’m capable of keeping a true course.”

  “We’ve rounded the Tumbas and it’s a straight course to Cayman, and at this speed we should be in Georgetown at twenty three hundred hours.” He handed over to Henry, “she’s taking a turn to port and if you need us just shout down the hatch, I’m light sleeper.”

  “Aye-aye sir it’s steady as she goes.”

  Henry was confident at steering and he enjoyed the vigorous feeling of being in command. He felt in his pocket and took out the beautiful bracelet. It sparkled in the bright sunlight. It was made up of eight bands each studded with two large diamonds and one emerald. He put it back in his pocket and thought he would use it to reward Roy and Maud. Who should own it is open to speculation and if he gave it to the authorities it could lay in some dusty safe for years before some corrupt official removed it.

  The first lights of Cayman appeared at twenty one hundred hours and Roy was pleased with his E.T.A. When they dropped anchor an hour and a half later, Henry stood on the deck and viewed the collection of boats moored in the harbor, but it was pointless searching for the Marita Ann until daylight. Maud was brewing up some cocoa and Henry fiddled with the bracelet in his pocket, he took it out and wondered at its exquisite beauty under the light of a hanging lantern. He pulled the make-shift knife out of his belt and placed the bracelet on the rail and with the knife between the bands, he loosed one, he then threw the knife over the side, “you did your job,” he murmured.

  “Cocoa’s ready Henry,” said the motherly voice in the little galley.

  The table was laid and they sat with steaming mugs and an array of biscuits, toasted buns with honey, and bully beef sandwiches with the beef protruding at the sides.

  “Maud this is excellent fare, it would do any four star hotel justice.”

  Roy mumbled with a half full mouth, “get stuck in Henry, you must be starved.”

  “I am.”

  They ate with relish and then Henry looked at both of them in turn and asked would they be offended if he offered some compensation for their help and co-operation without which he’d still be in Cuba. Maud looked at Roy and they both just stared and said nothing.

  “It’s a part of a bracelet; I came across while following this man. It belonged to a lady who I could only describe as a Mafia moll. What would happen to it if I was to give it to the authorities I just don’t know. The lady in question was killed by this man I’m following. So who would own the bracelet which I’m sure was bought originally with ill-gotten money, so as far as I’m concerned, part of it should be used as just reward for apprehending this murderer.”

  He placed the section on the table and the two large diamonds set at either side the emerald sparkled, even in the dim light of the cabin lamp.

  Maud put her hand to her mouth and gasped. “My Lord they’re beautiful.”

  Roy breathed a loud sigh, “they’re worth a king’s ransom, really Henry do you think we should?”

  “Yes, you should, for being true trustworthy friends and law abiding people. Keep them safe until you decide what best to do with them.” He smiled at Maud, “one of those would make a rock of a ring.”

  She picked it up and looked in wonder at the beautiful craftsmanship that made it. “Its solid gold and the stones are set in platinum claws.”

  They both thanked Henry and then all hands hit the bunks for a deserved night’s sleep.

  The next morning, Roy was first out. He checked the anchor cable, it was holding fine then he raised his binoculars and searched the yachts lying at anchor all around the harbor. He knew what the Marita Ann looked like; a big powerful motor launch. The light filtered brighter as the sun rose hot and clear for another scorcher of a day. He searched the boats moored at the docks but they were too closely moored to read their names.

  Henry came out rubbing sleep from his eyes, “any sign of her Roy?”

  “I’m afraid not, but I haven’t made out the names of a lot of them, the ones in the dock are too close together to read from here. Henry; lower the dinghy and go ashore, then walk the docks and look for her. It’s the only way you’ll find her among this lot.”

  “I suppose so, that’s if she’s here at all.”

  Henry paddled ashore in the little dinghy and Roy continued to search the boats at anchor. There were a few that could be her but he couldn’t read their names, they were either blocked by other boats or turned the wrong way. He went and made a cup of tea without waking Maud. Let her enjoy her sleep he thought as he looked in and saw how peacefully she was slumbering.

  As Henry walked the docks he was amazed at the number of yachts moored up. Most of them he believed were from Cuba. He strolled back and forth and checked and double checked. He even went as far as scrutinizing the names to see if any had been painted over. He was becoming more disappointed and despondent by the minute. As he watched the boats coming to life and people moving about on their decks, the smell of frying breakfast and the happy sounds of people enjoying life. He considered going to the police headquarters but to what avail if Tukola wasn’t here. He got into the dinghy and paddled back to the Sea Falcon

  “Any luck Henry?”

  “Not a sign,” he replied, dejection written all over his face.

  “Don’t worry, all is not lost. There’s a launch about a mile away and she looks very much like our baby, but I just can’t read her name. We’ll have to go over in the dinghy and investigate.”

  Roy was enjoying this detective work now and he felt proud he was an integral part of an important surveillance. Henry put a few slices of bacon from the pan between his bread and went out on deck where Roy handed him the binoculars.

  “Look over there between those two yachts,” he pointed and Henry focused the glasses.

  “From what I remember of seeing her in the dark, it could be her, but I cannot make out a name. It should be on her stern but it’s just blank.”

  Roy took the glasses and looked.

  “Yes, it seems from here the name’s blanked out, come on lets go.”

  Roy shipped the two small oars and with a deft stroke weaved his way in around yachts until they were twenty yards from the launch. They both looked and Roy’s shrewd eyes noticed the jolly boat was missing off her davit. He rowed a bit closer. “look!” he exclaimed to Henry. “There’s a length of canvas hanging down over her name.”

  They rowed even closer and Henry put his hand down into his stocking and felt for the hand gun. He was tense and he didn’t want to put Roy in any danger. They were alongside the small ladder and they could hear the hum of the generators.

  Roy shouted, “anybody aboard, custom officials coming on board.”

  They waited with bated breath, but there was no reply, the silence palpable, he shouted again, “coming on board.” Again, there was no reply.

  Roy looked at Henry and said in a sharp and serious voice, “Give me that hand gun. If he’s there he won’t know me, don’t worry I served my time in the The Green Howards and I know how to handle this if it gets rough.”

  Henry was astounded that Roy even knew he had a gun, he must remember to ask him later how he found that one out. He handed him the small gun, and Roy tucked it into his belt like a professional. He climbed on board and Henry could hear him shouting down the companionway.

  “Anyone on board, custom officials,”

  He went below and saw where there had been a struggle; charts and navigational books were scattered around as if in frustration and anger and there was blood on a bulkhead. He went to the engine room hatch and looked down; there was no one on board. Back on deck he took the dinghy rope and tied her.

  “Come on board and see what’s happened here.”

  Roy went aft and pulled up the loose canvas to reveal the name, Marita Ann. It was not tampered with just covered up. Henry searched through the cabins and noted the scattered and broken furniture of what seemed to be a st
ruggle and the blood. He touched nothing as the finger print team from shore would want a clear run. He saw the small safe forced open and emptied. The ship’s log was lying on the deck and seemed intact.

  Roy looked down and said in an authoritative voice, “we better go ashore and notify the authorities. What do you say Henry?”

  “Yes, he’s ashore here and dangerous, the sooner he’s caught the better.”

  They rowed to the dock and Henry left Roy and made his way to the police station. He was ushered into the office of the chief constable. He was a man in his early fifties, colonial to the core, born in The Caymans as his father before him, a career policeman. He was surprised when Henry introduced himself and intrigued as the story unfolded.

  “A serious fellow this Tukola. He will have to be apprehended as soon as possible, but where to start? You reckon he probably arrived yesterday. Let me check with the port authorities. I’ll immediately get a team out to the launch. What’s the boat’s name again?” He wrote it down. Henry, can you go and meet the man I’m going to put in charge of this? His name is Monty Simms.”

  Henry stood up.

  “Sorry old boy, I forgot to introduce myself, the name’s Gordon Mummery.”

  “Gordon sir, I have a couple of things I would like you to do for me in your capacity of chief constable. Firstly, when I left the ship the Rangoon, I didn’t inform the captain because as I told you, it happened too quickly to tell anyone. So I would like you to send a communication to the British Ambassador in Havana and get him to write or send someone to explain to the captain what has happened. There is also a box under the mattress of my bunk which I wish him to retrieve and put in safe keeping prior to being handed over to Scotland Yard when the ship arrives in a home port. This box I took from Tukola’s cabin and it contains what I might term trophies retrieved from his victims. Warn the captain it holds items which will cause him distress and he may not want to open it.”

  Gordon Mummery looked with astonishment.

  “Good grief, Henry, this man will have to be caught quickly.”

  “The next thing I want you to do for me is to restore my proper passport,” he said as he handed over his passport in the name of Henry Tyler.

  “I’ll make this priority and have your new passport tomorrow - it’ll be a Cayman Island one.”

  “Suits me fine.”

  Shaking hands he left the office.

  “Right, I must go and meet Monty Simms.”

  Things moved fast; Monty was a young and active policeman who never had a lot to do in investigative work and he relished the challenge. He didn’t think going to the launch would achieve much, “We’ll leave that to the fingerprint men.” His slim frame and bronze skin lent him a Hollywood appearance, sharp hazel eyes and black wavy hair - a lady’s man without even trying, Henry thought, then noticed the gold wedding band on his finger. This didn’t detract from his efficiency as a detective. He spread a map of Georgetown on the desk and marked in the launch.

  “The next thing is we will have to find out where the small boat is and see where he came ashore. I’ll send a man to search around the area to find that boat. I also want a good description of the killer and we’ll have his details posted to all corners of this island before evening.”

  “I have a man down the street who will make up a sketch and you can view it later. Henry, this is going to take me about half an hour to put in motion so why don’t you go for a walk around and God knows what you might see - even him. You also mentioned the attaché case full of money and jewels. What is your opinion of what he might do with it?”

  “I would personally think he’d stash it somewhere and not carry it with him.”

  Monty folded the map and turning his head to look out the window he wrinkled his forehead.

  “Yes, I was thinking along those same lines. Will you come back to me in an hour?”

  “Will do.”

  Henry walked along Elgin Avenue and out to Shedden Road. He glanced at every male of the same skin color and age as Tukola. Now that he knew for certain he was around, he could show up any place. Tukola he was sure, would be confident walking around here, and never for a moment harboring a thought he was being hunted by Henry or the local police. Having the element of surprise on their side was their key to catching him. He went into the first shop selling tourist items, and to disguise himself he bought a Panama hat, a pair of sunglasses and a colorful shirt; the type a typical tourist would wear. He changed in the shop’s changing room and carried his old shirt in the shopping bag. He looked at himself in a mirror in the shop and thought yes, I don’t even recognize myself! He sat outside a coffee shop sipping iced tea and munching cookies. The street was busy with shoppers and tourists. When I see Monty later, he mused, I’ll suggest that if they find the small tender boat from the launch they should leave it where it is and have a plain clothes man watch it in case he returns to it.

  After a while, he became restless and couldn’t settle. He felt he was too close to catching his man and he wanted to be more involved. He walked back along Elgin Avenue to the police headquarters. Monty had two sergeants with him who he was briefing about Tukola.

  “Ah!” he stopped and stared, “it is you? I nearly didn’t recognize you with the hat and shirt! Very good thinking Henry. It wouldn’t do if Tukola recognized you on the street.”

  Sit down please. I was going over our plans with my sergeants.

  “This is our British detective, Henry Tyler,” he said, by way of introduction.

  Henry nodded to the two men. They were both fit and eager and in their early thirties, he judged.

  “If you don’t mind Monty, may I suggest that when they find the tender an undercover man stays around in case he decides to go back to the launch. If he did take out the boat at least we’d have him out in the open. I hope I didn’t forget to mention that this man is armed and would have no hesitation using his firearm.”

  “Yes Henry, I did stress that to all my colleagues. I have your description of the killer circulated.” Then, turning to the two sergeants he said, “if you see him or even think it’s him, don’t try to arrest him. One man should keep him under observation, the other come back for back up.”

  Henry stood in front of them as they went to leave, his fixed eyes and serious demeanor told all. “Tukola has a prominent cut over his left and it would not be properly healed as yet. He also has a tattoo of a snake on his right arm with the head uppermost.”

  They nodded.

  “Thanks sir that should be enough to identify him.”

  Henry went with Monty to the sketch artist. He had a dingy little room at the back of a shop. He spent most of his time sketching people on the street, mainly tourists. He was old now maybe seventy with gray curly hair and wispy beard, his black skin was wrinkled and stretched over his hands like parchment.

  “I’m going Henry, I’ll pick you up for lunch in say one hour,” said Monty as he strolled out of the room.

  Henry gave the man a very detailed description of Tukola and after about fifty-five minutes and a few minor adjustments, he had finished the sketch.

  When Monty arrived back, Henry was holding the sketch and looking at it with admiration and disbelief.

  “See Monty, look at this. It’s like a photograph of him. It’s perfect, even down to his cut eye.”

  Monty glanced over with affection at Paddy. “He’s a master at his work and he’s promised to do a color sketch of me someday.”

  “Paddy looked up at Monty.

  “Don’t leave it too long now. I’m getting older by the day and you getting uglier.”

  They all laughed heartily.

  Monty paid Paddy generously and they left.

  It was a lobster lunch the likes of which Henry hadn’t enjoyed or tasted before - only read about. Monty threw his napkin on the plate, “good fare here. But we better get back to see if there any developments and I want to send the sketch I have here to the printers. He’ll have a hundred out in an hou
r.”

  When they arrived back at the headquarters, Monty gave the sketch to a young trainee.

  “Take this to Reynolds and ask him to have one hundred copies ready as soon as possible; stress that it’s very urgent.

  Just at that moment an excited young policeman came rushing out to the outer office.

  “Sir, we found the tender boat from the Marita Ann.”

  “Good man, where?”

  “Down on the beach at Miss Eden Bay. It was well pulled up the beach.”

  “Great, go right away and tell whoever’s in charge not to touch it. Tell him to have a plain clothes man hang around. Make it clear that under no circumstances anyone try to apprehend the killer. They should just keep him under observation.”

  “Right sir, I’ll do that,” he replied excitedly, before rushing out of the room.

  “Good kid that. Come here Henry and I’ll show where the boat was found.”

  He spread the map and marked a spot on Miss Eden Bay.

  “This is approximately where he landed, but what direction did he take after that?”

  Henry was scrutinizing the layout of the beaches, the houses and hotels in the vicinity.

  He spaced his words, slow and deliberate.

  “Presuming he took it with him, he would be going to find someplace to stash the loot. Now, I’ll put myself in his place and Monty will you do the same?”

  Monty grinned. “I don’t know how good I’d be as a crook having always being on the opposite fence, but I’ll try.”

  “Right, I’ll go first.”

  Henry ran his finger along the map of the beach and stopped at the first house; he paused a while and moved on. He kept going until he came to a secluded part where there were no houses for about half a mile.

  “I’d say about this area depending on the soil which I presume is sand so easy to dig up.”

  Monty was following his every move.

  “Yes you’re right; it is sand and away from any houses. You could hide something there with a very good chance of not being seen. The only people around there are a few turtle fishermen.