by Ed Robinson
I did not, however, let down my guard. Instead, I took a different route, walking rather than running. Sure enough, one of the suspects had left his buddies and circled back to make his escape. I was there to knock the shit out of him and encourage him to remain still until the officer returned. The cop came back with one kid in cuffs. I instructed my captive to follow the nice officer to his patrol car. We’d physically captured two out of three, which ain’t bad. The perps would give up their friend in no time. I made sure both were in the backseat of the cop car before relaxing. My work here was done. I called Brody to come pick me up.
Four
Over the next month, no jobs came our way. We hadn’t picked another legend to investigate. I took regular trips to the park in Valle Crucis, which had a walking path entirely on flat ground. Red accompanied me, and we took leisurely strolls along the Watauga River to work my arthritic knees without taxing them too hard. I was taking turmeric every day, drinking less booze, and generally feeling healthier. Winter was well behind us now. Spring flowers and rhododendrons were in full bloom. The trout were biting in the lakes and rivers. It was time to enjoy the High Country in all its splendor.
I was farting around in the garage one day and came across our old SAT phone. I took it inside and plugged it in to charge. It was supposed to be our lifeline to our old friend Captain Fred down in Florida. We’d forgotten about it once we bought cell phones. There were only a handful of people who had the number, so unless Fred had tried to contact us, I didn’t expect anything to be on it. It had multiple special features, including its untraceable quality. Fred had an affinity for security, especially with his communications. He wouldn’t email anything important and often wanted to talk in person in some safe place if he had important business to take care of. I’d once flown to St. Petersburg, Florida and boarded a charter boat just to spend thirty minutes talking to him. Our conversation didn’t begin until we were miles offshore, and the captain was preoccupied.
I decided to get his number off the SAT phone and give him a call to let him know we now had phones of our own. He didn’t answer, and there was no messaging capability. I could only hope that he’d see our North Carolina area code and realize it was us that had called him. A few days went by with no return call, and I forgot all about it. I did leave the phone on and charging just in case. I think subconsciously I wanted him to call and ask for my help with something. The mountain life was quite pleasant in the spring, but I was getting antsy for some kind of action. I felt like a thoroughbred that had been relegated to giving pony rides to kids at the county fair. Staking out cemeteries didn’t really do it for me. Sitting around, hoping to see the Brown Mountain Lights was boring as well.
Another week passed before the damn thing rang. I was sitting quietly reading a book, so the noise startled me. It took a few seconds to figure out where it was coming from. I didn’t recognize the number but answered it anyway.
“Breeze,” I said.
“It’s Daniel,” he said. “Daniel Ames.”
“I hope you’re well, Marine,” I said. “I didn’t realize you had this number.”
“I had to do some work to get it,” he said. “Captain Fred gave it to me.”
“Are you in trouble?”
“Not me,” he said. “It’s Holly.”
Daniel and Holly were names from my past. Holly had been my sometimes lover and partner for several years. We’d been through one adventure after another together. We’d dove for gold on behalf of an old lady who ended up dying before we could make her rich. I’d suffered a broken rib thanks to an angry hammerhead shark during that one. We’d helped another old treasure hunter recover his stolen gold down in the Keys. Holly had followed him down to Guatemala and Belize to continue the treasure hunt. Daniel had sailed off with her at one point, only to return alone within the year. I’d given him a sailboat that I’d bought from a couple who couldn’t afford to keep it or fix it up.
I had treated Daniel like the son I never had, teaching him the ways of the sea. He spent some time finding himself living on a boat in Florida, but it wasn’t his future to keep doing that. He took a position with a veteran’s group called Enduring Warrior in Virginia. I hadn’t spoken to him much since then.
I had a special place in my heart for Holly. We’d tried to find a way to love each other as we each deserved, but our age difference was the deal breaker. She was twenty years younger, pretty, and adventurous. I couldn’t hold her back forever. She sailed off alone on her sailboat to points unknown, but far away. Now Daniel was calling me on her behalf. Something serious was going on.
“Is she okay?” I asked.
“She’s busted up pretty bad,” he said. “She needs help. I’ve got a career now, and I can’t leave.”
“Where is she?”
“In a hospital in Tortola,” he said.
“The BVI?”
“Yes,” he said. “Her boat is anchored out with no one to watch out for it. She got run over in her dinghy by a big cabin cruiser. She said the boat wasn’t properly prepared for bad weather. The hatches might even be open. She doesn’t have much money either. She’s in a bad way, Breeze.”
“What are her injuries?”
“Broken ribs which punctured a lung,” he began. “They got a tube in her chest, and she’s on oxygen. Her arm is botched up too. Her dinghy is destroyed.”
“Where is she on Tortola?”
“It’s called Peebles Hospital, in Road Town,” he said. “Can you help her?”
“I don’t see why not,” I said. “Does she know you are calling me?”
“She does,” he said. “She didn’t know where else to turn.”
“I appreciate you going out of your way to track me down,” I said. “You doing okay?”
“I’m fine, man,” he said. “We’ll catch up later.”
“Okay, good,” I said. “Let me give you my cell phone number for future reference.”
“Where are you?” he asked.
“Blue Ridge Mountains,” I said. “Come visit when you get a chance.”
“You sold Leap of Faith?” he asked.
“Long story,” I said. “We’ve got a log cabin now.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“Give me Holly’s number,” I said.
I saved both Holly’s and Daniel’s numbers in my phone and went to tell Brody what was going on. I wasn’t sure how she’d react.
“You should go right away,” she said. “I’ll make the flight arrangements for you. Start packing.”
“You’re not coming with me?”
“We’ve got Red to take care of,” she said. “You need to be fast on your feet. I’ll stay and hold down the fort. You go.”
“Are you sure about this?”
“Get packing,” she said. “Warm weather clothes and any gear you think you need, but keep it as light as you can.”
I did as I was told. Brody yelled to me from the computer.
“Change over in Puerto Rico or St. Thomas?” she asked.
Many years ago, I had flown into Puerto Rico on my way to Tortola with my first wife, Laura. The airport there was the worst I’d ever experienced. I preferred not to go through there again.
“St. Thomas,” I said. “As long as it doesn’t delay me too long.”
“There’s a non-stop from Charlotte on American,” she said. “We can make it if we hurry.”
“Book it,” I said.
I almost threw my gun in the bag but decided it wasn’t worth the hassle that it would cause. I had shorts and lightweight shirts but couldn’t find my flip flops. I grabbed a handful of clean boxers and tossed them in the bag. It was hard to think clearly. Holly was in trouble, and I was too rushed. Calm down, Breeze.
I would just have to buy whatever I forgot when I got there, or do without. Brody had the car running when I was ready. I jumped in the passenger seat, and we took off for Charlotte. It was a little over two hours away. We had three hours before departure. Brody drove well
above the speed limit until we were certain that we’d make it. I got a quick kiss before she shoved me out of the car.
“Call me when you can,” she said.
“Love you,” I said.
“Love you, too,” she said. “Go take care of business.”
I got my boarding pass and hustled to the gate. The line at security was thankfully a short one. I slid through with no problems; handing my pass to the attendant and boarding the plane without a wait. I could finally relax. I felt naked with no weapons and very little belongings with me. I had my phone and wallet, which was stuffed with cash. I had my wits. I also had the advantage of having been to Tortola previously. I knew that I’d wait for Customs for too long and that there would probably be dogs or chickens wandering about the airport, maybe both. There would be no car waiting for me because I wasn’t checking into a resort, but there would be a taxi eager to take my American money.
I wasn’t familiar with the hospital. Should I go there first or tend to Holly’s boat? I realized that I didn’t know where her boat was anchored. I’d visit her first. Another Adventure would have to wait until I checked on Holly and got a better grasp of the situation. I lay back in my seat as much as it would allow and told myself to chill out. The flight lasted almost four hours, and I still had another short hop to Beef Island. Small planes flew back and forth from St. Thomas and Puerto Rico several times per day.
It was six in the evening before I landed. Luckily, the Customs employee was waiting for this last flight to land before he could go home. He checked us in quickly with zero scrutiny. The airport was otherwise empty. I walked outside and found one lone cabbie sleeping at the wheel. I tapped on the car, startling him.
“Peebles Hospital?” I asked.
“Sure, man,” he said. “It’s down by the harbor. Twenty bucks.”
I was in no position to haggle about the fare. He was my only shot at a ride. I gave him a crisp twenty and got in the passenger side, which was on the left of the car, where the steering wheel should have been. We drove on the wrong side of the road at too great a speed into Road Town. That car ride was much more frightening than either of the plane rides.
“You need me to wait?” he asked.
“I might be a while,” I said. “But I will call you if you’re going to be on duty later.”
“Where do you want to go next?”
“I don’t know yet,” I said.
He wrote down his number and said he’d be available until nine.
“Thanks, pal,” I said.
I went inside to the help desk and asked for Holly’s room number. By pure chance, I had arrived during the evening visiting hours. I found her sitting up in bed, staring at some unidentifiable food on a tray table. I tapped on the door.
“Holly.”
She turned to look at me.
“Wait. What?” she said. “There is no freaking way that Breeze is standing there looking at me. I must be over-medicated.”
“You’re good,” I said. “It’s me.”
“I don’t even know what to say,” she said. “Daniel told me he would try to get in touch with you, but I never expected you to show up.”
“I heard an old friend needed my help,” I said. “Now, tell me that you’re going to be okay.”
“Other than the heart attack you just gave me, I’m supposed to recover.”
“Fill me in and tell me what you need me to do first,” I said. “I’m at your service.”
“When you come back bring me a cheeseburger,” she said. “I’m so sick of beans and rice.”
“What happened, Holly?”
“I got in the dink after dark with no lights,” she said. “I had a headlamp on, but that was it. I got ran the fuck over, Breeze.”
“Ouch,” I said. “How bad is the damage?”
“My little dinghy is destroyed,” she said. “I’m busted up. Another Adventure is riding a short rode with the main hatch and all the port lights open. Probably being robbed as we speak.”
“Where is she?”
“Nanny Cay,” she said. “Out from the yacht club.”
“Is there a water taxi?”
“This is the BVI,” she said. “Not Annapolis.”
“I’ll find another dinghy then,” I said. “I’ll secure your vessel as soon as I can get out there to it.”
“That would be great,” she said. “All I can do is sit here and worry.”
She had a tube in her chest and oxygen to her nose. Her hair was gnarly, and she looked like hell, but I still saw her as the cute hippie chick that I’d always known, except now I felt much more like a father figure than a lover. Time had moved on for both of us.
“How much chain do you have out now?” I asked.
“Like fifty feet,” she said. “The rest is rope. You’ll need to put some chafe guard on it once you let more out.”
“Keys?”
“In the ignition,” she said. “I was just coming in for dinner.”
“Short rode, keys left in the ignition, dinghy in the dark with no lights,” I said. “You’ve gotten sloppy my friend.”
“You taught me better,” she said. “Guess I got cocky.”
“We’ll talk more about that once you get on your feet,” I said. “I’ll go tend to your boat now.”
“Hug first?” she said. “Gently, of course.”
I went to her and gave her the softest of hugs. She held me a few seconds longer than necessary.
“I can’t believe you came for me,” she said. “Thank you so much.”
“You’re going to be all right,” I said. “Lay back and take it easy. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
I hated to see her in such a frail condition. Her body was broken, but her spirit still shone through. She’d always been a risk taker, not that I hadn’t taken risks myself. Mine were usually a result of careful calculation of the situation. Her’s were more spur of the moment jump off bridges decisions. This time it had bitten her in the ass. She would survive, though, and be smarter for the experience.
I went out to the curb and found my taxi driver still parked in the same place. I guess he’d gotten no other fares while I visited Holly. He seemed glad to see me, knowing that his decision to wait had paid off.
“I need to buy a dinghy with a motor,” I said. “Take me to that place.”
“Moorings and Sun Sail likely have some old ones laying around,” he said. “The motor is a different story.”
“Something tells me that you know a guy,” I said. “A guy that might have a motor for sale.”
“The charter companies are closed for the night anyway,” he said. “But I do know a guy.”
“Let’s go see him,” I said.
Small outboards are gold in the islands. They are constantly being stolen from naïve sailors and charter customers. They’re also in high demand. An unscrupulous character could make a decent living dealing in stolen outboards and dinghies. I was about to meet just such a character. He would ask too much, and I would protest, but the truth was that as a beggar I couldn’t be choosy. If I was lucky, I could dicker him down a few hundred bucks.
Five
My cabbie was named Frederick. He had curly wet hair and spoke with a distinct English accent. He charged me another twenty dollars to see a man about a dinghy. We pulled up in front of a dilapidated house in the worst section of Road Town. The front yard was stacked with old engine parts, cowlings, props, and assorted boat junk. My escort knocked and yelled at the same time.
“Hey, Charlie,” he said. “I brought you a customer.”
A very dark-skinned man opened the door and looked me over. He had pure white hair that clashed with his black skin, but what stood out were his massive hands and forearms. He looked like he’d lifted many motors in his day.
“This is a cash-only business, mister,” he said.
“Not a problem,” I said.
“What are you looking for?”
“Decent dinghy and a good outboard to go wi
th it,” I said. “Horsepower not important. I just need a good running motor.”
“Follow me.”
We walked through Charlie’s house towards the back. The place was surprisingly neat, and no boat parts were seen. The back yard was a different story. It was surrounded by a high fence to shield his inventory from prying eyes. He had a dozen or so inflatables along with more than twenty small outboards.
“Good solid boats are here,” he said. “I want a thousand a piece for any of these three.”
“What’s your best running motor?” I asked.
“This 9.9 Mercury runs like a raped ape,” he said. “Old school two-stroke.”
“I had one of those for a long time,” I said. “What about these four-strokes?”
“This Yamaha is in the best shape,” he said. “Runs good. Nice and quiet.”
“How much?”
“Fifteen hundred,” he said.
I took a closer look at the better dinghies. All three were Hypalon Caribes, the same as the big charter companies used. They were obviously stolen from rental customers who didn’t know well enough to lock them up at night. They were good little boats and well-worth a grand. I pointed at the best looking one.
“I’ll take this dink and the Yamaha,” I said. “Will you take two thousand for the package?”
“That’s five hundred out of my pocket,” he said. “Dinghy man got to eat too, you know.”
“Throw in one of these gas tanks, and I’ll give you twenty-three hundred.”
“This I can do,” he said. “American cash, right?”
I pulled out my wallet and counted out 23 hundred dollar bills. I held it out for him to inspect. He was satisfied enough to take the money. He handed one of the bills to Frederick for his finder’s fee. They had a good racket going.
“How can I get this rig down to the harbor?” I asked.