by Chris Niles
“Airport.”
The airport was less than a mile away, and they arrived within minutes. Vince slung his pack over his shoulder as he stepped into the small, modern airport terminal. He started toward the ticket counter. Twenty yards to his left, at the entrance to the security screening area, he stopped short and patted his back pocket, even though he knew it was empty. A large sign was mounted on a stand ahead of him. Passports and boarding passes required past this point.
His passport was still in his sock drawer back on Stock Island.
Vince pulled the pack from his shoulder and sank to the floor, his back against a cool white pillar. A small chameleon paused near his knee. The little animal met the man’s gaze and tilted its head to the side.
“I can’t wait to hitch a ride with one of the boss’s rich buddies this time. I need to get off this god-forsaken island today.”
He scanned the bright terminal. Wide murals of clear turquoise water and bright tropical fish covered the walls. Pictures of happy vacationers in snorkel gear, sitting on the swim platform of a luxurious cabin cruiser—
That was it. If he couldn’t fly off the island, he’d just have to find a boat.
He counted all the cash he had with him. Across the terminal, he stuffed a credit card into a cash machine and pulled out the maximum amount the machine would give him. It wasn’t the first cash advance he’d taken on Baumann’s card, and, as long as he got the desired results, his boss would never even notice the transaction.
Vince found an empty stall in the men’s room and changed into a fresh white shirt, hoping he could make it back into town without the meddling blonde or her companions seeing him. He stepped back out into the heavy, humid afternoon then dropped into the passenger seat of the first cab in line.
“Where to, amigo?”
“Where can I charter a boat?”
“What kind of boat? Fishing? Diving? I got a cousin knows the best spearfishing…”
“Deep water, long distance.”
“But chu just got here. Stay a while. See our beautiful island and our beautiful women.”
Vince peeled a twenty from a thick stack of cash. “Just help me find a boat, or I’ll find another driver.” The cabbie snatched the twenty, popped the clutch, then lurched out of the cab stand. He sped down the terminal drive while tapping his phone and spitting rapid-fire Spanish into his Bluetooth headset. On the third conversation, the cabbie hit the mark.
“I got chu a big boat. She is docked not far from here. I take you there now.” Five minutes later, he jerked the car into a gap barely large enough to call a parking space against the curb. The cabbie jumped out and led Vince down a dock to a huge shirtless man in ratty blue cargo shorts. Further along, Vince saw a cluster of teenage boys in matching navy blue t-shirts and loose khaki shorts beside three large sportfishing cruisers tied up side by side. “This is Manuel. He can help you with your boat.” The cabbie scurried back up the dock, wiggled his car away from the tiny spot, then disappeared.
“Buenas tardes.”
Vince nodded at the man and walked down the dock to admire the boats.
“This first one, the red one, she is Mariella. Forty-five foot, five-hundred-mile range, depending on the weather and sea conditions. How long will you be needing her?”
“I think a week. I’m planning to cross to Havana and spend a few days cruising and fishing along the coast. I’d also like to hire one of your boys there to help crew her.”
“Julio tells me you come from the airport. May I ask, amigo, why you do not sail directly from Florida? It would be much closer, no?”
Vince quietly walked along the dock, pretending to examine the boat and trying to come up with an answer to satisfy the man so he’d hand over the expensive cruiser.
“She runs smooth? She’s reliable?” Vince tried to look skeptical.
Manuel took the bait. “Si, señor. Very. Listen.” Manuel hopped down into the cockpit then scrambled up the ladder to the boat’s soaring flybridge, where he flipped the blowers on. The big fans spun to life. Then he hit the ignition. A deep, smooth rumble growled from the rear of the boat. He hollered to the group of boys. “Jesus! Ramiro! Come here!”
Two boys trotted over to the boat and spoke softly to their boss for a moment. Vince caught the eye of the younger boy and waved his money clip. The boys both scurried into action, preparing the boat for the unexpected charter.
Manuel turned back to Vince. “She’s good, no?”
Vince nodded. “She’ll do.”
“Let’s step into my office and write up the paperwork, then.” Manuel started toward a small shack on stilts where the dock met the shore.
“I’ll be right behind you,” Vince shouted, then walked around the dock, pretending to admire the boat. As the boys scurried around loading supplies on the boat, he slipped the dock lines from their cleats, leaving them lay in place unsecured. The engine idled, and the boat quietly rocked in its slip, swaying with the rise and fall of the gentle water.
Vince glanced back down the length of the dock. Manuel’s shack stood at least thirty yards away, and the man didn’t seem like the running type. He casually strode around the boat, gaze darting while his head stayed still. Then he leaped from the dock, scrambled up the ladder to the flybridge, slammed the boat into reverse.
The older boy toppled from the dock into the water in the open slip beside the Mariella. The boat bounced back and forth as the props engaged and pushed it backwards.
“Hey! HEY!” Manuel ran down the uneven dock toward them, then launched himself off the dock into the water in a valiant effort to catch his boat, but the Mariella was already clear.
Vince watched the ruckus on the dock from the corner of his eye as he threw the starboard throttle forward, spun the boat around, then matched the port throttle. The big boat sped away from the shore toward the north point of the island.
Chapter Thirty-One
Kate slalomed across the avenue between careening taxis and motorbikes. After checking around corners and up alleys, she returned to the corner then crouched, resting her elbows on her knees and catching her breath.
Steve stood with his wife near the corner, shaking.
“He’s gone,” Kate panted. “You okay?”
Steve rolled his shoulders. “Eh. I’ve been worse. I’ll just be a little sore in the morning, is all.”
She reached up and brushed a bit of gravel from his shirt. A tear in the sleeve caught her eye. Habit had her licking her thumb to wipe a bit of dried blood from his elbow.
Steve hopped back a step. “It’s fine. Really.”
Kate stared down at her thumb, damp with spit. “Sorry. My mom used to do that to me, and I always hated it.”
“We all turn into our parents eventually.”
She flinched, turned away from him, and busied herself with scanning the crowded street. “He could be anywhere.”
“He could. But he’s not. He’s somewhere specific. This island is crowded, but it’s also very small. There are only a few marinas with a boat big enough for what he needs.” He playfully punched her shoulder. “Buck up, soldier. We’ll get our man.”
“What if we don’t? What if Baumann takes Shark Key? What will happen to Chuck? To Babette? To us?”
“That won’t happen. We can’t let it happen.”
“We will find him. But we need to keep moving.” William’s reason pushed the other three into motion. They jogged across the street. On the sun-soaked sidewalk, Steve pulled up short, then dodged around a pair of teenagers taking photos of each other perched on the white wall separating the avenue from the beach.
They walked south along the sidewalk. Over the squawk of seagulls and the laughing visitors, Kate heard William’s phone trill. He dropped back a couple steps to answer it while Susan checked the map on her phone. “Our first stop is a couple blocks up on the right.”
A white taxi jerked to the curb then a family spilled out, laden with beach gear and already sunburned.
Kate hopped in the front, and Steve and Susan slid across the back leaving room for William. The taller man dropped into the car, curled his long legs against the back of Kate’s seat, and rattled off a location to the driver. The cab lurched through traffic, stopping just a few blocks south of the cruise terminal.
Steve and Susan climbed out after William unfolded his lanky frame from the tiny seat. Kate paid the driver, then joined them. As the cab sped away, the four of them headed down the long dock.
William waved at someone and led them toward a huddle of local men scrambling around. He pitched his voice over the din and called, “Manuel!”
A soaking wet, broad-shouldered man broke from the group. “You must be William.”
He nodded. “The dockmaster from the Yacht Club filled you in? It sounds like we have a mutual problem.”
“Gringo just jumped on my boat and took off with my sister’s boy on board.”
Kate’s head cocked to the side. “Wait, if one of your people is on board, why doesn’t he just take over and bring the boat back?”
“That would work if it was my Alejandro or his brother here, but Ramiro? He’ll work for the highest bidder. As long as he thinks he’ll get paid, he’ll do whatever he guy wants.” He shrugged. “Honestly, I assigned him to crew to get them off my dock for a week. I should be more careful what I wish for.”
William pointed to the two boats floating side by side. “Which one is better?”
“Isabella is nicer and has a longer range, but Sofia — the white one here — is faster. He ripped out of here about twenty minutes ago, so he’s got a good head start. You’ll need her speed. The Mariella, she has GPS tracking, so you shouldn’t lose him.”
“What’s Mariella’s range? Might we have a better chance overtaking her if we’ve got more distance to do it?”
“Sofia’s reserve tank is greater than Mariella’s. You will catch her.”
While the three men debated speed versus range, Kate pulled Susan aboard the white boat and waved to Manuel’s two sons. “Run across the street and get whatever food you can find. And extra drinking water. Enough for five. One of you is coming with us.”
The boys looked to their father, who shrugged and waved them toward the little store.
“Sí, Papa.” The boys both took off down the dock.
Manuel climbed the ladder to the upper bridge. The two men followed while Kate and Susan listened from the boat’s roomy cockpit.
“To the left here, this screen has your GPS, chart plotter, and radar functions. And all your engine stats and onboard systems, they are over on this right screen. Keep an eye on the starboard engine, she sometimes burns a little hotter than the port after she’s running a while.”
A metallic click sounded, followed by a heavy clunk. “Paper charts for most waters in the Gulf and western Caribbean are in this locker. The newer GPS run on Windows, and it sometimes freeze up. I been meaning to install a Garmin, but just no time.”
“Yeah, I had that problem our first time out with the Knot. Thing rebooted itself every forty-two minutes, like clockwork. I replaced it as soon as we got back to port.” William’s deep baritone drifted over the rail.
Susan climbed up and slipped her arm around Steve’s waist. Kate ascended halfway, just enough so her head poked up into the bridge. Manuel turned from an unlatched cabinet holding a selection of navigational tools to the features behind the wheel.
“All your system switches are along here. I think everything is marked and pretty standard. And she’s ready to go.” Manuel pointed to a tiny LED on the instrument panel as it turned from red to green. When he pushed the ignition button beside it, the twin engines rumbled to life. Their low growls vibrated under Kate’s feet.
Steve whistled and squeezed Susan’s shoulders. “She’s beautiful, Señor. When all this is done, we’ll come back over for a long vacation on this sweetheart.”
Manuel blushed, then scurried down the ladder, beckoning to Susan. He pulled another set of keys on a white float from his pocket, unlocked the wide glass door, then slid it aside. He showed the women the richly-appointed salon and the large galley. His sons dropped in behind them to stock the full-sized refrigerator with bottled water, beer, juice, and fruit.
“You’ve got a queen stateroom here, another two twins back there, and the head is here. Alejandro can help take watch and will make sure you know where everything is.”
Susan helped the boys store the provisions while Kate climbed back up to the bridge, Manuel following close behind her. William and Steve were discussing the instrumentation and drooling like little boys.
“You take good care of my girl here, okay?”
William clapped Manuel on the shoulder. “I couldn’t hurt this lady if I wanted to. She’s beautiful. And we’ll get the Mariella and your nephew back safe for you, too.”
“You’d better.” He winked, but his eyes were troubled. “My sister will kill me if harm comes to that boy. But it’s okay if you teach him a little lesson once you’ve got him safe.”
William’s cheek twitched, and he looked down at his feet before meeting the man’s gaze.
Steve stepped towards the boat’s helm. “We’d better push off if we’re gonna catch up before dark. I don’t want to have to try to board him at night if we can help it.”
Manuel extended his hand to Steve. “Good luck, señor.” He hugged Alejandro, hopped back onto the dock, then untied all the lines. Steve gently nudged the boat out of its slip. As they nosed past the dock, he dropped the port engine into neutral a few seconds early, and the bow drifted around to starboard. He nudged the starboard throttle up a hair to stop the spin, then matched the port and pushed the boat forward through the no wake zone near shore.
As soon as they cleared the shallow harbor, Steve called out. “Everyone hang on! Let’s go get this bastard!” He shoved both throttles forward as far as they’d go. The twin diesel engines roared and the stern dipped low in the water. The bow climbed as they sliced through the thick salt water, pitching higher and higher until the boat leveled off. Then they shot forward faster than Kate imagined a boat could fly.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The horizon stretched a sharp, straight line as far as Kate could see in every direction. A few soft, puffy clouds dotted the infinite blue sky before it faded to meet the deep cobalt sea. She could stare at the horizon for hours and never tire of it.
The Sofia flew on an east-northeast heading at its top cruising speed, skimming the water and lightly bouncing on each swell. Kate’s blonde hair flew in tangles away from her face. She leaned over toward the instrument panel in front of Steve’s seat.
“How long until we catch up with them?”
“A while yet. We’re gaining on them, but not by a lot.” He pointed to two dots on the bright LED screen covered in thin, crooked lines and tiny numbers. “They’re over there. We’re here.”
Kate looked at the throttle handles. “It looks like they’re not all the way down. Can’t we go any faster?”
“We could, but I don’t want to push the engines any harder.” He tapped a gauge labelled Starboard with its needle twitching just below the redline. “We’ll catch up before they get close to Cuban waters, but it’ll still be a couple more hours. Why don’t you go below and get a bite to eat?”
Kate stood. The momentum of the boat and the wind coming across the bow pushed her body toward the back of the bridge. She planted her foot and caught her balance, grabbing the back of her seat for stability.
“Watch your step.”
Grabbing the railing before letting go of the seatback seemed prudent. Kate clutched it as she inched her way to the ladder. Just before her head dropped below the deck, Steve called out “I’ll take some pineapple and a cold beer while you’re down there, if there’s any left.”
“Not your waitress, Capt’n!” The tip of Kate’s middle finger was the last part of her
to drop below the deck of the flybridge, but Steve’s laughter followed her down the ladder. She ducked into the galley. A minute later, she brought him a container of fruit and a Cerveza León.
Back in the cockpit behind the wind block of the cabin, Kate rested in calm air. She leaned against a deep fish box and took in the boat’s wake extending behind them. An inflatable dinghy was tightly lashed against the transom, its tiny outboard motor tucked into a customized mount to the port side. Two fighting chairs rested on post mounts in the center of the cockpit, offering a perfect view as the sun began its slow plunge toward the horizon.
She hoped they could catch up to the scum and secure him and the boat he rode in on before the sun hit the horizon.
Inside the cabin, William chatted with Alejandro in Spanish while Susan’s snores rattled from the master stateroom.
“Kate, come join us!” William slid around to the center of the u-shaped dinette. Alejandro bounced out of his seat, pulled a plate of fruit and meats from the refrigerator, then set a fresh beer in front of Kate’s spot.
“Thanks, this looks delicious.”
“You’re welcome. I take to Captain now.” The boy pulled another plate and another bottle from the fridge and danced out of the cabin.
“I just—”
“Let him take it up. Steve’ll still eat it.”
Kate peeled slices of salami and swiss cheese from the plate then rolled them together.
“Good kid.” William nodded after the boy. “His brother Diego, who we met on the dock, is sixteen, works for his dad full time, and loves running the charter business. But Alejandro” —William nodded toward the cabin door — “is more interested in moving to the mainland for college next year. He’s planning to study entrepreneurship and economic development.”
“Two different kids, eh?”
“For sure. Same parents, same upbringing, totally different goals. And I’m sure Manuel is just as proud of both of them.”
Kate’s breath caught in her throat. She pinched the rolled snack between her fingers so tight, the swiss cheese tore.