"How'd you find that out?" Monica asked.
"Maureen's brother's wife's cousin, she know this mon."
"Who is Maureen?" Monica asked.
"Maureen is my wife," Sharktooth said.
Monica nodded.
"It seems to me that some of those people must know something," Luke said.
"People in Chateaubelair?" Sharktooth asked.
"Right."
"Chateaubelair is a poor town," Sharktooth said. "Fishing village. Some smuggling happens there, mos'ly drugs. They grow ganja up in the hills close to there. The people, they only want to know their own business. Too dangerous to even think about why somebody willing to pay them to do things. Bes' to do the thing, and ask no question."
"But they must know what they're doing is wrong," Connie protested.
"They are not stupid," Sharktooth said. "Not bad people. They are scared; for many years, they see bad things happen to people who don't mind they own business. So they work hard to not know things they don't have to know."
"So, what are we going to do?" Luke asked.
"I think the best thing is to give Phillip a chance with the telephone and that phone number," Paul said. "That shouldn't take too long. Meanwhile, I'm going to call some of my old contacts on the drug interdiction task force. They monitor the comings and goings of suspicious boats down here sometimes. There's a chance we might be able to find out if there was a big boat hanging out over the horizon from Chateaubelair yesterday."
"And then what?" Luke asked.
"And then we'll have more information. We can't charge off blind, here; that gets people killed. You have to realize the kind of people we're up against here, Luke. Julia's valuable to them as long as she's alive and unharmed, but she's just a commodity. They'd kill her and dispose of the body without a thought if they were about to get caught with her. We need to be damned sure what we're doing before we make any moves that will attract their attention."
Luke swallowed hard and nodded, looking down at his hands, which were clamped together, resting on the tabletop.
Monica put an arm around him and said, "Let's go try to take a nap. I didn't sleep last night, and I know you didn't."
He nodded again and stood up, blinking back tears as he let her lead him to their stateroom.
Connie was lying in bed, wide-awake, listening to Paul's soft snoring. She was amazed and annoyed at the ease with which he could drop off to sleep in the middle of such a crisis. On a rational level, she envied him. As he had said before, sleep was a weapon, and there was nothing they could do at the moment to hasten finding Julia. They had eaten a dinner of pasta marinara that Paul and Sharktooth had prepared jointly, washed down by two bottles of a good Chilean red wine. Sharktooth had left after dinner to spend the evening visiting with Mrs. Walker; he had called to let them know that he was going to spend the night in her guest room. The Regans had turned in soon after dinner, and she and Paul had followed a few minutes later when they finished cleaning up after dinner.
She was tired and cross. She knew that the two states were closely related and that she needed sleep, but she didn't have Paul's facility for shutting down her mind. She was irritated with Paul. He had dismissed every suggestion that she had made; he didn't value her opinion. Inevitably, her thoughts drifted to the thong in his top drawer. She couldn't imagine that he and Karen had an opportunity for sex during the charter, but her anger fired her imagination. Diamantista didn't afford sufficient privacy for them to have done more than flirt with each other, but Paul had been in Miami for four days and three nights; the woman lived in Ft. Lauderdale, just an hour's drive away.
Connie felt the muscles in her jaw spasm and realized that she had been grinding her teeth. She willed herself to relax and forced herself to grapple with the problem of finding Julia. She felt a flood of guilt as she recognized her selfish preoccupation with her own problems. She and Paul would eventually resolve their problems, one way or another. Julia's situation was far more precarious. If they didn't find her soon, she might never have the chance to worry about man trouble.
She recalled dealing with being abducted a few months ago. Although frightened, she had handled herself well. Her certainty, wrong though it had been, that help was on the way had made her bold enough to turn the tables on her captors. But she was an independent woman; she had years of experience at bending people, especially men, to her wishes. Julia was without that kind of experience and confidence.
Remembering how she had taken control of that seemingly hopeless situation caused her to consider that she had something to contribute to Julia's rescue that none of the others had thought about. This whole episode was driven by men's desire to exploit women. She had a woman's perspective — not just a woman's perspective, but the experience of having lived by her wits for her whole life, making her own way in a man's world. She had been in tough situations before; she wasn't afraid to step into this one. She fell asleep plotting alternatives.
19
"The guys on the task force said there were three possibilities," Paul said, referring to large motor yachts that had been in the area when Julia had been picked up from Sueño. "But they only had one flyover in the twenty-four-hour period, so they may have missed some." The group was assembled around the table in the main cabin, making a breakfast of fresh fruit and the coffee Paul had brewed. He had offered to cook breakfast, but no one was interested.
"Any vessel names?" Phillip asked. He was in Martinique, participating via telephone.
"Magic Carpet, Blue Yonder, and Market Price," Paul replied. "All registered in Bikini and owned by shell corporations."
"Could be any of them, or none of them," Phillip said. "Any reason one is more suspect than the others?"
"Not to me," Paul said. "They just happened to be passing through the area at the right time, but that's all we know about them. What about the telephone? And that contact number?"
"The telephone has a prepaid Digicel SIM from Grenada; it would work just about anywhere in the islands. The call records had been wiped clean. They're trying to get info out of Digicel, but nobody's optimistic."
"What about the contact number?"
"It goes through a whole series of relays; no way to tell where the calls end up."
"That sounds pretty sophisticated," Luke said.
"Yeah, but it's nothing special. It's gotten a lot easier to do that kind of thing than it used to be. It means our target's a crook of at least average intelligence. You heard any more, Sharktooth?"
"Mrs. Walker been askin' 'round, but she don' find anyt'ing new. She reminded me 'bout that fella Ozzie Johnston, though. You remember him?"
"From back when Liz got kidnapped?" Phillip asked.
"Mm-hmm," Sharktooth rumbled.
"I thought he was out of action."
"Yes," Sharktooth agreed, "but what Mrs. Walker say was to 'member he had nearly the whole Senate on his payroll."
"The whole Senate?" Luke asked, alarm in his voice.
"Of St. Vincent," Paul said.
Luke looked only slightly less shaken.
"What was her point?" Phillip asked.
"Girls. Johnston was fixing them up with girls, and taking them out on that big motor yacht he had to party. She says the word is somebody else doin' that now, since Ozzie an' his frien's got put away. She say we mus' be ver' cautious 'bout askin' questions, specially up 'round Chateaubelair."
There was a lull in the conversation. Connie, having been quiet until now, cleared her throat and set her coffee mug down. "We're not making much progress," she said. "They've had Julia for 36 hours, almost, and we have no idea where she is."
"You have any ideas?" Paul asked.
"Yes. I've been thinking about something since last night. It's pretty different."
"Let's hear it," Phillip's voice sounded tinny coming from the phone's speaker.
"Okay. This is about men buying women, presumably to force them into prostitution." She saw Luke's face go pale, and Monica gr
imaced. "We can't find them, but we might be able to draw them out if we offered to bring them girls."
"They're going to be super cautious about dealing with somebody they don't know," Paul said.
"Right. I'm thinking we need to be ready to deliver."
"Deliver?" Phillip asked. "Deliver girls?"
"Yes. That's what they're buying."
"But how? Where're we going to ... " Paul said, but Phillip interrupted.
"Wait, Paul. I think that might be our best shot. I need to talk to Clarence — he may have some people that can help. There's a young woman working with him who was undercover for the Israelis in the Middle East. Give me a few minutes. I'll call back."
Fifteen minutes after he hung up, Phillip called back. "It was almost a good plan," he said. "In fact, Clarence has an operative in Fort-de-France who poses as a pimp. He's got a full-blown legend to back him up. He could make a credible approach to these people. If they checked up on him, they'd discover the guy's been busted, done time even. It's bulletproof. And the woman would be perfect. Good looking, late twenties, but looks younger, and tough as nails. I was thinking of her, specifically, when Connie made her suggestion, and Clarence agrees."
"So why is it almost a good plan?" Paul asked. "Sounds like a go to me."
"Marie's not available," Phillip said.
"Marie?" Paul asked. "Marie Lacroix?"
"You know her?" Phillip asked, surprised.
"Dani and Liz told us about her," Connie said.
"Right," Paul agreed. "She sounds like she would have been just right. Sure we can't get her somehow?"
"Yeah. She's committed on an operation down in Central America — open-ended."
"But it still sounds like the best way to get Julia back," Connie said.
"No argument there. Clarence is doing some checking. He'll get back to us in about an hour," Phillip said. "I'll call you when I hear. Meanwhile, if anything comes up ... "
"We'll call you," Paul said, disconnecting the call. "How about some sandwiches? Fruit for breakfast won't carry us very far."
"I fix," Sharktooth said.
"I'd like a little time alone with Monica," Luke said, a quaver in his voice. "Just to try to get myself together."
"Why don't you two take the dinghy over to the beach; take a walk," Connie suggested.
"Let's do that, Luke," Monica urged, taking his hand and tugging him to his feet.
When she heard the dinghy pulling away, Connie said, "Hey, Paul, how about coming up on deck with me?"
Paul looked a little puzzled, but he followed her up the companionway ladder. When they were in the cockpit, she inclined her head toward the bow, and he followed her again. She sat down on the foredeck, her back against the coachroof, and he settled beside her.
"What's on your mind?" he asked.
"I just wanted a little private time," she said, putting her hand on his forearm. "To say thanks."
"You're welcome, but ... "
"For hearing me out, and not discounting my idea."
"It's a hell of a good idea. Why would I discount it?"
"It's probably just me, but I've felt like you didn't think I was pulling my weight in this."
"Don't be silly, Connie. One idea like that could make all the difference in getting Julia back."
"What if Clarence can't come up with anybody?"
"Don't borrow trouble just yet. I'm sure Marie's good, but she's not the only woman around who can take care of herself in a tight spot. We'll come up with something."
"We'd better go down and get a sandwich, or Sharktooth might think we're up to something," she said, getting to her feet.
Connie was quiet as she munched on the toasted lobster salad sandwich Sharktooth had fixed. He had brought fresh lobster meat from Mrs. Walker's to surprise them. She tuned out the banter between the two men as Paul teased Sharktooth about his huge appetite. She was pleased that her suggestion had been so well received.
The availability of the man in Fort-de-France was fortuitous; she had been worried about that aspect of the plan she had worked out last night. She had assumed that Sharktooth could play that role, but Clarence's man seemed better suited to the job. She hadn't reckoned on Clarence having a woman to send in; that was not what she had in mind. She fought back her frustration and disappointment when Phillip brought that up. She would bide her time while they waited for him to call back. She wasn't ready for what she expected would be a serious argument. The situation wasn't ripe just yet.
She had forgotten about Marie Lacroix; she'd never met the woman. From what Dani and Liz had told them about her, she would have been right for the job. Connie was relieved to hear that she wasn't available, though. She was discovering that waiting patiently was not something that she did well. She'd never thought about it until this happened, but she realized that she had a strong preference for action. While she wasn't as impulsive as Dani Berger, she didn't have Paul's ability to stay detached and direct things from a calm vantage point, either. She needed to make things happen.
That could be one of the reasons that she and Paul got along well. She had been sincere when she told him how much his acceptance of her suggestion meant to her. She was a little surprised at that herself; she had never been conscious of needing anyone's approval before. Of course, she reminded herself, she had never been so completely, hopelessly in love with anyone before, either. In spite of the Karen Gilbert thing, she had no doubt about Paul's feelings for her, and she knew they'd survive this. Their affection for each other would be stronger for it, once it was behind them. She needed to hold that thought, because she expected to test Paul's icy self-control soon.
She could tell from Phillip's manner that he didn't think Clarence had a backup for Marie; he was probably trying to think of someone, but she suspected he was also trying to avoid dashing the Regans' hopes yet again. She wasn't willing to let that happen, and unlike Phillip, she had someone in mind for the rescue.
20
They were finishing their sandwiches when the phone rang. Paul picked it up and checked the screen before he accepted the call.
"Hello, Phillip," he said, pausing to listen. "Everybody but the Regans." He paused again. "Sure." He set the phone on the tabletop and pressed the hands-free button.
"It's just as well the Regans aren't there right now," Phillip said. "I got some bad news from Clarence."
"What?" Connie asked.
"Well, two things, really. First, he and his guy in Fort-de-France can't come up with anybody to take Marie's place in your scheme, Connie."
"Damn," Paul said. "Any chance they could pull Marie back? Send somebody down south to replace her?"
"No. He checked that out, too. He might have a candidate who could do what she's doing, but Marie's out of touch; he can't arrange a switch, because he doesn't know how to reach her. But this is the really bad news; his guy has picked up rumors about the people that probably have Julia."
"What's he heard?" Connie asked.
"There's someone from the Middle East offering top dollar for teenaged virgins; the word's out to all the traffickers. His guy says he's pretty sure the broker is somebody who's already in the business of snatching women. He recognized the contact number. Word is, they keep the girls penned up somewhere until they have enough to make it worth a run to Somalia. Or somewhere in that neighborhood."
"Then we might have a little time," Paul said. "Depending on how many women they have."
"I don't think ... " Connie started speaking, but stopped as Phillip's voice came from the phone.
"We can't make that assumption; there's been a fairly steady stream of women going missing. They could already be on their way."
"How come that hasn't attracted some attention?" Paul asked.
"Well, for one thing, most of the women aren't the kind who have anybody to miss them. Somebody's being pretty selective. And then, the authorities in most of the islands aren't eager to have this kind of information bandied about. It's not good for th
e tourist trade."
"Yeah, okay," Paul said. "That's pretty discouraging. Could Clarence's man make a call, at least? They might be able to get a trace, or something."
"Well, we talked about that. Chances of a trace are slim; it would be a last-ditch effort. And his guy thinks he'll probably get a bite if he makes the call."
"A bite?" Paul asked. "You mean he thinks they'll want to deal?"
"Yeah. If that happens, and we don't have a woman to deliver, they'll scramble for sure. That could get Julia and anybody else they're holding killed. These people won't risk getting caught with human cargo."
"Tell him to make the call," Connie said. "I'll go."
"Absolutely not!" Paul yelled, surprise on his face. "That's insane; it's out the question. I forbid ... "
Connie slapped Paul, stunning him into silence. "Phillip?" she asked.
"Yes, I think Paul's ... "
"Paul and I need to talk here. We'll call you back; but be ready to move," Connie said, pressing the disconnect button.
"Sharktooth, could you give us a little privacy?" Connie asked.
The big man nodded, poker-faced. He stood up. "I'll take Lightning Bolt an' go drift off the beach; keep an eye on the Regans so they don' come back befo' you ready. Call me when you done, okay?"
Connie nodded, and he left without another word.
"Connie, I can't let you ... "
"It's not your choice to make," she said, her face flushed. "You're not Lieutenant Russo in charge of homicide, this isn't the Miami PD, and I don't answer to you."
"Okay, okay," Paul said, raising his hands, palms toward Connie as he took a step back. "I apologize for coming on strong like that."
She glared at him, breathing deeply as she clenched her fists on the tabletop.
"Can we talk about this?" he asked, as he saw that she had regained her composure.
"We don't have a lot of time to waste, Paul."
"I don't want to lose you — I've waited my whole life to ... "
Sailor's Delight - A Connie Barrera Thriller: The 2nd Novel of the Caribbean Mystery and Adventure Series (Connie Barrera Thrillers) Page 14