“I’m begging you, please let me go. I can’t do this.”
Sparks didn’t answer, but I felt the gun barrel being pushed deeper into my back. He nudged me again, closer to the ship. We were thirty feet from the gangway. “This is as far as I go,” Sparks said. “Walk right over to the ship and try not to look like someone just died. Tell them Angela Devereux sent you. Like I said, I’ll be waiting for you when you get off.”
I scowled at him. “You know I’ll never make it off the ship alive.”
“You figured it out. I’d applaud if my hand wasn’t wrapped around this gun. Now be a good little girl and go aboard.”
“Why should I?”
“Because if you don’t, I’ll kill you where you stand; you may have a chance to stay alive if you go through with it.”
There was no way for me to express the level of disgust I felt for Sparks. I detested him with every ounce of my being. I wanted to scream and run but knew from having seen him in action that life meant nothing to him. He would murder me in cold blood and sleep like a baby afterward. I took a deep breath, plastered a smile on my face, and walked toward the ship. “I’m with Angela Devereux,” I said to the guard. “I’m here for Señor Hernitos.”
Forty: It’s Time for One of You to Die
Sparks waited for her to go aboard and then walked back to his car to wait. The parking lot was directly across the road from the marina, and he could see the ship and the gangway clearly.
It was mid-afternoon, and the heat was intense. He slipped off his jacket and placed his gun under it on the passenger seat. He got out of the car and walked to the trunk where he had a case of bottled water.
He heard Lexa’s phone ringing when he lifted the trunk lid, and he took her phone out of the plastic bag. There was an incoming call. The phone rang several times and then stopped. It displayed a list of missed calls and phone messages. He had to scroll the screen three times to see the entire list. Most of the numbers were repeats. He took the phone and the water back into the car with him.
Sparks started the engine and put the air conditioner on full. He loosened his tie and checked the list of messages again. He took out his own cell phone and checked to see who had been calling him repeatedly. He had missed several calls with the same number. They had come from the 631 area code which was the area code for Suffolk County. A message was waiting. He hit the voicemail key and listened to the message. He had received a call from a Suffolk County detective whose name was Peter Sampson. Sampson was inquiring about the whereabouts of Lexa Ameleon and instructing Sparks to return his call immediately.
How did he get to me? It only took a few seconds for Sparks to connect the dots. He broke out into a sweat despite the torrent of icy-cold air rushing out of the vents. “Rosen,” he grumbled. “I’ll kill him.”
He picked up Lexa’s phone and checked her list of voicemail calls. There were several. The most recent ones had also come from the 631 area code. The number was not the same as Sampson’s, but the 630 exchange was identical. He highlighted the number and listened to the message. The message was from the Suffolk County Police Department. The caller was instructing her to contact them immediately and that she was wanted for questioning. There were two other messages from the same caller. All three messages were essentially the same.
Sparks placed Lexa’s phone on the passenger seat and blew out a big sigh. He checked his watch and then struggled to get comfortable in his seat. “This is going to be tight.” He checked his watch again. “Wait until I get my hands on Rosen. You moron!”
He pulled out his wallet. On either side of the wallet was a New York State drivers license. He pulled out the two drivers licenses and held them side by side. The photos were identical, but the names were not. One listed the driver as Thomas Sparks, and the name on the other drivers license was listed as Tomaso Chispa. Sparks stared at the two licenses for a moment and then muttered, “It’s time for one of you to die.”
Forty-one: The Doper’s Lair
What was Shawn Riley’s role in the double homicide? Sampson was in his apartment looking around for just that reason. He was sitting on Riley’s sofa and examining the items lying on his coffee table: a box of packaged syringes and an empty prescription bottle for oxycodone. The prescription had been written by Samuel Rosen and filled at a pharmacy in Great Neck, New York. Sampson found crumpled aluminum foil in the kitchen waste pail that was discolored from heat. A quick sniff was all he needed to identify the residue on the aluminum foil. It was heroin.
He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Janik.
“Keeping busy, Peter?” Janik said as he chuckled. “I love it when you sink your teeth into something—you’re like a bulldog. Where are you?”
“I’m at Shawn Riley’s apartment in Water Mill. He’s a serious user, Lieutenant, heroin and oxy. He’s got a case of beer in the fridge and a box of unused syringes.”
“Water Mill, huh? That’s out in the boonies.”
“Guess who’s writing his scrips for oxy?”
“Let me guess, Dr. Sam Rosen? He was just indicted by the IRS and DEA on tax evasion, prescription fraud, and the sale and illegal distribution of controlled substances.”
“Then why is he in Pennsylvania today?”
“He had no prior convictions and was released on bail. He’s a wealthy physician; you didn’t think he was going to wait this out in jail, did you?”
Sampson rephrased. “He’s in Pennsylvania. He’s out of the state, Lieutenant. I’m sure that’s a violation of the terms of his bail.”
“Yes, I get that, Peter. I’ll request a warrant.”
“He’s back in town tomorrow night. He’s supposed to call me the minute he returns.”
“So we have two fatalities, one of which was a junkie, a missing woman, and a dirty doctor—I’m glad I just had my uniform dry-cleaned. There will definitely be a press conference tonight. You think I should go to the tanning salon?”
“I’m glad you find this amusing.”
“Lighten up, Peter; don’t let the job give you a stroke.”
“Did you get a line on the attorney?”
“There is no one by the name of Thomas Sparks listed with the New York State Bar Association.”
“Big surprise. He doesn’t answer his phone either. I called him several times.”
“Just a minute, Peter, I’m going to put you on hold.”
Sampson slumped in the sofa while he waited for Janik to come back on the line. The fast food he had eaten for lunch had given him heartburn. He popped a Tums into his mouth and crunched it between his back teeth.
“Peter, are you there?”
“Yeah, Lieutenant, anything new?”
“Our missing person just checked her voicemail, and we were able to triangulate on the signal. She’s at the marina in Sag Harbor. Well at least her phone is.”
“I’m only fifteen minutes from there.”
“I’ll call the Sag Harbor Police and have them meet you there.”
“I’m getting goose bumps. See ya.” Sampson sprung off the sofa and bolted out the door.
Forty-two: Diosa de Oro
The staff treated me like royalty. I was given a flute of champagne, which I sipped sparingly while the captain gave me a brief tour. The ship was impressive in size and quality. The captain explained that the deck and trim were made from teak wood and that all the fittings were solid brass. He was cordial and friendly and made no references to the fact that I was a bought-and-paid-for trollop.
I had the opportunity to float about the deck along with the well-heeled guests. I was drawing smiles and whispers. I could only imagine what was being said about me.
I was doing my best to suppress my anxiety but could not get it under control. I was there to seduce and kill a man, a task I was incapable of. What am I going to do? I kept asking the question but could not come up with the answer. There was no answer. I was in an untenable situation, trapped between Sparks, his gun, and the man he wanted dead.
Who was this Hernitos? What was this about?
The captain checked the time. “You can go below now. Señor Hernitos is ready for you.” He handed me off to a member of his staff. “He will see you below.”
My heart began to pound. I finished the champagne for courage and quickly grabbed a fresh glass. Easy. One step at a time. Pray for a miracle.
I was shown to Hernitos’ stateroom. It spanned the entire width of the ship, with portholes on opposite sides of the room. It was ornately decorated in shades of ivory with lots of gold accents. A large, circular bed dominated the floor space. The bed, I thought, the goddamn bed. Where was he? I was not a Girl Scout. I had been with men, but the idea of being with someone I didn’t know and desire—a man I had no feelings for—I felt violated before having committed the act. I felt within the pocket of my cover-up and touched the hypodermic. The cap was still in place. Should I uncover it? No! I left it capped, as if that small impediment would somehow prevent me from going through with this heinous act.
Where is he? The bathroom door opened and Hernitos stepped out. His hair was damp, and his face looked wet as if he had just stepped from the shower. His silk robe matched the ivory and gold theme of his stateroom. He grinned, not to be social but to project the fact that he was pleased. I was a sure thing after all, a no-risk proposition. He untied the belt on his robe allowing it to separate. He turned away from me and extended his arms, waiting for me to come up behind him and remove it. He didn’t see my face or my expression, which showed that I found him revolting.
I took a deep breath and inched forward. It wasn’t until my fingertips caressed his silk robe that an idea hit me. I buried my head in the nape of his neck and rubbed my cheek against his. His head arched, and I could see that he enjoyed being nuzzled.
“Go slowly,” he said in his Spanish accent. “I like it slow . . . and tender . . . lentamente . . . tiernamente.”
My throat was too tight for me to speak, but I managed to continue nuzzling him while I brought Ax’s image to mind. He began to moan, and I could tell that he was lost in the moment. I put my arms around his neck and watched until they grew large and muscular. Ax was always demonstrating his martial arts for me and had shown me how to apply a sleeper hold. I began to squeeze lightly while my cheek was still pressed against his. I continued to apply more pressure and tighten my hold around him. By the time he realized what I was doing, it was too late. He struggled briefly, trying to reach me from behind, but the supply of oxygen to his brain was too greatly diminished. He collapsed in my arms.
I dragged him over to the bed, lifted him up, and made him look comfortable as if he was taking a nap.
I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I had only transformed my body. The face was still mine. I looked like a menagerie freak, a young woman with a man’s body. The image made me sick. I ran into the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face.
I did not know how long Hernitos would be out and needed to get off the boat quickly. And back to Sparks? That is a bad idea. He was on the lookout for Lexa, but not Allie. I focused on my image in the mirror and brought Allie back one more time. I made my hair a little shorter and diminished my bust so that I would draw less attention. I fished in his closet and traded my cover-up for an oxford shirt. It was enormous and covered me down to the knees. I put the unused syringe in my shirt pocket and slipped out of his room.
I had been in his room less than ten minutes, much less time than anyone would assume I would be with him. There was no one posted outside his door. I quickly made it up to the deck. I scanned the partygoers and crew. Everyone seemed to be having a good time. I could see past the railing to where Sparks had parked the car. I didn’t have the best view, but I did not see him in the car. Now, Lexa! Move it! I was just a short distance from the gangway when I felt someone’s hand on my shoulder. A chill ran through me. I looked back and nearly fainted.
Forty-three: What Are You Doing Here?
“Emilio?” I threw my arms around him and thanked God for his unexplained presence. “What are you doing here?” I was on the verge of hysterics. I was desperate to flee, yet at the same time, relieved to be in the company of someone I trusted.
“Allie, what’s wrong?” he asked. “You look as if you’ve just seen a ghost.”
“I have to get off the ship.” I didn’t have to say, “Right now”—it was clear in the tone of my voice.
“But what’s wrong? Are you in trouble?”
I didn’t have time to explain. Hernitos would come around soon if he was not already awake. In a moment, it would be too late. I took Emilio’s hand. “Quickly, come with me. I have to go.” I pulled him toward the gangway. His movement was at first tentative, but then he began to walk with me, matching my pace.
“Okay, come on,” he said. “Let’s go.”
I walked past the guards doing my utmost to appear inconspicuous. They were both armed. I imagined Hernitos staggering to the deck and calling for my head. I could see the guards drawing their weapons and firing. The image stayed with me until we were clear of the ship. I could see that Sparks’ car was unoccupied. I dragged Emilio with me.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“We have to get out of here.”
He looked up and saw that we were walking toward Sparks’ car. “Is that your car?” he asked.
“I have to get my things.” I scanned the area and didn’t see Sparks. I opened the driver’s door to look for the trunk release. My cell phone was lying on the passenger seat. I grabbed it and then found the trunk release. The bag with my personal effects was still there. My heart was racing. I was nervous that Sparks would return and catch us. “Do you have a car?”
I followed his gaze to a silver BMW M3 convertible. He grabbed me by the hand and led me toward it. The M3 had a reputation for being a rocket ship. Its high-speed capability gave me hope.
Emilio cranked the engine and threw the car into gear. We were out of the parking lot and on our way out of town in scant minutes. I sighed with relief and put my head on his shoulder. “You’re an angel. There’s no other explanation for you being on that ship.”
“Señor Hernitos is a client of mine. It’s his birthday.”
Oh my God, I was supposed to be his present. “Who is he?”
“Hernitos is a businessman from Mexico. Why?”
“Why would—” I caught myself. Should I ask him? Why wouldn’t I? “Why would someone want him dead?”
“Dead?” Emilio blurted. He turned to me, looking at me in disbelief. “Allie, this is crazy talk. Are you all right?”
How much could I say? Could I tell him about Sparks and that I was being blackmailed into murdering Hernitos? Could I tell him that Ax had accidentally murdered Vincent? That conversation would not end well. He was an officer of the court. Far beyond that, there was the tale of Lexa and her brother Ax, two siblings with the ability to alter their physical appearances. That would lead to, “I’m not who I said I was, I’m really . . .” I would have to tell him that I was not really Allie. No one could possibly handle that much baggage, not even Emilio.
“I’ve never seen you like this. I have a friend who is a doctor. Perhaps I could get him to give you something to calm down. You seem hysterical.”
I composed myself enough to say. “Just forget it.” I stroked his arm. “Just get me away from here, okay?”
“Okay,” he said and mashed down on the accelerator.
I was worried about Ax. I didn’t know where he was or what he was thinking. He must have come home and found the two bodies. I couldn’t imagine what that would do to him. I pulled out my cell phone to check for missed calls, hoping at least one of the calls had come from my brother.
Forty-four: What Have I Walked Into?
Sampson saw the Sag Harbor Marina coming into view through the windshield. A police cruiser was parked near the entrance to the parking lot with a police officer standing by the front fender. He spotted Sampson’s unmarked car and waved him over. A
s he pulled toward them, he saw a second unmarked car parked behind the cruiser.
Sampson rolled down the window and presented his detective’s shield.
“Detective Sampson?” the uniformed officer asked.
“Yeah, what’s going on?”
“John Franco, Sag Harbor Police.” He reached in through Sampson’s window and shook hands. “Your lieutenant told us you were on the way.” He glanced over at the unmarked car and signaled for Sampson to join him.
Now what? Sampson thought. He shut the engine and joined the uniformed officer by the unmarked car.
The man sitting in the second car had short, blond hair and wore old-fashioned aviator glasses. He pushed open the car door and stood up. He greeted Sampson with a huge grin and a mouthful of sparkling- white teeth. “Bill Bianco,” he said as he reached into his hip pocket and withdrew a leather ID case; “DEA,” he continued.
Sampson rolled his eyes. “I knew it. What have I walked into?”
Bianco pointed over his shoulder at the huge pleasure boat with the name Diosa de Oro inscribed on it. “You see that bucket of bolts over there?”
Sampson glanced over at the yacht. “Kind of hard to miss. Let me guess, a drug lord’s ship?”
“Alejandro Hernitos. He owns several international businesses, some legitimate and some not so much.”
“But nothing pays quite like the white powder, right?”
Bianco nodded.
“Columbian?” Sampson asked.
“Columbian? Don’t you read the papers, Sampson? He’s Mexican.”
“Gee, what was I thinking,” Sampson said, admonishing himself playfully.
“He’s been docked here since last night but apparently his arrival was no secret. He’s got fifty guests aboard: lawyers, businessmen, wealthy Gold Coast citizens, and a handful of call girls to keep the gents happy.”
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