Sailor's Delight - A Connie Barrera Thriller: The 2nd Novel of the Caribbean Mystery and Adventure Series (Connie Barrera Thrillers)

by Charles Dougherty

  "What?"

  "You now belong to me, until I decide to dispose of you in a way that suits me. You live because I permit it; you will do exactly as I say, or you will be made to regret it, I assure you. Remember telling me that?"

  "Yes," he said, softly.

  "You now belong to me; don't forget. I'll permit you to live for a few more minutes, because it suits me. Phillip? Sharktooth? Let's go find Paul and see if Marie's here yet."

  They filed out of the cabin, headed for the bridge.

  27

  Julia realized that her eyes were open. She was lying on her back, staring at a white ceiling; she didn't know how long she'd been like this. She had the disoriented sense that she was hovering between sleep and wakefulness, unable to push herself fully into either state. She blinked slowly, her eyelids heavy. The ceiling didn't look familiar; the room was bright with sunlight, and felt cool, air-conditioned. Her skin was clammy. She raised a hand to her chest and discovered that she was wearing a light cotton shift. She lifted the loose fabric into her field of vision. It looked vaguely familiar; she had a beach cover-up in this fabric. She ran her hand over her chest and down to her waist, feeling the spandex of her bikini. She remembered going shopping for it with Monica, for some special occasion, but she couldn't remember what.

  She became aware of a harsh but not unpleasant smell. She knew the odor, but couldn't place it at first. She associated it with the school restrooms, and then it hit her. It was some kind of pine-scented disinfectant. There was another, sweeter smell, which she thought was insect spray. She struggled to recall where she was. She remembered having been on a boat with her dad and Monica; the people who ran the boat were nice to her. She especially liked the woman, she remembered. She had been teaching Julia to sail, but that was all Julia could remember. This room was not on the boat; she knew that space had been much more cramped, although she couldn't quite picture what her cabin had looked like.

  It was abnormally quiet. The only sound that she could isolate was a soft hiss, like the rush of air. She remembered her impression that this room was air-conditioned. "Dad?" she croaked, surprised at how dry her mouth was. She was hoarse, almost like she had a sore throat. "Monica?" she tried again, but there was no answer, just the hiss of the air-conditioning. She tried turning her head, but that made her queasy. She closed her eyes and drifted back into the warmth of oblivion. She never saw the woman sitting in the shadow in a corner of the room, watching her.

  The woman in the corner glanced at her watch and scribbled an entry in a pocket notebook that she held in her lap. Helga had said the last injection had been at about 7 p.m. last night, a little over 12 hours ago. The girl was coming around right on schedule. She would probably be drowsy most of the day, but that was all right. By tonight, she would be fairly alert, although her immediate, short-term memory would likely still be compromised. She should be easy enough to manage. They would get some food into her late this afternoon. If there was still enough Ativan in her system, that might get her through the night, or most of it.

  By tomorrow morning, she should be mostly free of the drug, and then the challenge would be to keep her from getting so agitated that she hurt herself. Yuri liked them fresh, undamaged. Terrified was okay, preferable, even, as long as they were unmarked. She would check on the girl in a few hours. If she seemed too alert, they might need to put her in restraints, but the woman knew Yuri didn't like that. Sometimes, the jacket chafed them, marked their lily-white skin. Yuri had his hang-ups, but he was still the boss.

  She was in no position to judge him; if it weren't for him, she and her sister would be rotting in a mass grave, or worse, maybe in some prison for war criminals. She didn't like what she had to do to survive, especially having to cater to the whims of the two sadistic bastards that guarded the house, but it beat the alternatives. She was always surprised that those two men could control themselves when there was a fresh, young girl here, but she knew why. As sick as they were, Yuri was worse. They were as scared of him as she and her sister were of them. And then, sometimes when he got bored with his newest plaything, Yuri would pass the girl off to them and watch the show in the theater downstairs. She and her sister, of course were required to attend, and sometimes to participate.

  She hoped that this girl would keep the monster entertained for the duration of his visit. She was certainly pretty enough; maybe he would take her away with him. That was always the best; it saved having to clean up afterwards. She had worked in her father's butcher shop; she could handle it, but dealing with the aftermath of Yuri's depravity still made her sick sometimes.

  Phillip and Connie found Paul on the bridge, conversing with Marie Lacroix.

  "So, I thought at first I would be sold into white slavery alongside you, Connie," Marie said, after the introductions were made.

  "Yes, well, timing is everything, I guess. I saw an opportunity, and I took it. Sorry we tore you away from whatever you were into to come clean up after us. Maybe you'll have better luck next time."

  "Oh, is okay, really. The fun part was over with down there. I was just on the chopper because we had negotiated for Sharktooth to deliver me to these animals tonight. The boys will handle the cleanup okay without me. Paul tells me you must go now to Mustique to find the girl. I have talked with Clarence; I am to come with you, if it is all right."

  "All right with me," Phillip said. "What do you think, Connie?"

  "No offense fellows, but I'd welcome having another levelheaded person along to help keep the testosterone in check," Connie said, wondering at the frown on Paul's face.

  That remark got a chuckle from everyone, even Paul.

  "Okay, you've done a bang-up job of getting us this far. How do you want to go about the rescue?" Phillip asked, looking at Connie.

  Before she spoke, she took in the storm clouds forming on Paul's face. "Well," she said, "keep in mind I'm the least experienced one of us, so feel free to help me out, okay?"

  Everyone nodded, and she saw Paul's expression soften a bit.

  "Julia's at Yuri Jovanovich's house on Mustique. There's a staff of four people, two men and two women. They were all in the Army with Jovanovich in Bosnia, and one of the women was a medic, like Helga, the Valkyrie that attacked Sharktooth. Julia's been kept drugged, but they moved her to the house last night planning to sober her up today so that she would be a fitting victim for Jovanovich, who's supposed to arrive tomorrow sometime. With me so far?"

  Everyone nodded again.

  "There's a problem, though. We don't know the exact location of the house. It seems that Simmons, the captain, never went there. Helga picked up and delivered all the women. She took Julia there before she picked me up last night."

  "Can we not ask Helga which house it is, then?" Marie asked.

  "Helga died in last night's attack," Connie said.

  Marie nodded.

  "Property records — rental agents," Paul said. "We can call Mrs. Walker."

  "Good. Go for it," Phillip said.

  "Hang on for a second," Connie said, looking at Paul. "You and Sharktooth go ask Simmons how Aurelius is registered."

  "Okay, but — "

  "It's probably held by a blind corporation. There's a good chance the house is hidden the same way. If we're lucky, it'll be the same corporation. While you do that, I missed breakfast. Anybody got food?"

  Sharktooth reached in his belt-pack and withdrew a lumpy, aluminum foil package. "Last of the fried chicken from Sandrine," he said. "Enjoy."

  Connie found a bottle of water in a small refrigerator against the aft bulkhead of the bridge and went out onto the starboard wing deck. She sat on the edge of the deck, her legs dangling as she wolfed down the chicken. She had just drained the water bottle and was admiring the play of the golden sunrise over the indigo water when Paul came and sat beside her.

  "The others are taking a little break; Marie and Phillip wanted to talk to Clarence about disposing of this boat," he said.

  "Okay. Any luck
on the house?"

  "Mrs. Walker's working it. Good suggestion on the corporate registration, by the way."

  "Thanks. That means a lot, coming from an old pro like you."

  "Um, Connie?"

  "Yes, Paul?" She frowned at the worried look on his face.

  "I think we should sit this next one out. It's likely to be another firefight, just like this one was. I know you're — "

  "We?" she interrupted.

  "Both of us. I know I can't ask you not to go if I go, but — "

  "You sit it out if you want; I didn't come this far to back out at the finale. I want that little girl safe with her parents."

  "Shit," Paul muttered. "I knew you'd say that. Testosterone's got nothing over estrogen."

  "I'm going, and I resent you trying to manipulate me like that."

  "I get that. I'm worried about you. You can't even begin to know how it felt, imagining all the things that could have been happening to you last night. I — "

  "Paul?"

  "Yes?"

  "Remember what you said about how you got when you were working on a case? Completely absorbed? Nothing gets in your way?"

  "Yes."

  "You aren't alone in that. If I let the others go in after Julia and something goes wrong, I couldn't live with myself. I'd rather take any amount of personal risk than sit on the sidelines."

  "I guess I understand that."

  "You do?" Connie asked, relief in her voice.

  "Yes. Do me one favor?"

  "What's that?"

  "Keep me by your side?"

  "Sure. Just don't slow me down," she agreed.

  "Hey, you two?" Marie called from the wheelhouse door.

  Connie and Paul stood up and turned around.

  "Mrs. Walker called just now. Phillip talked to her."

  "And?" Connie asked, as they went back inside.

  "Dead end," Phillip said.

  "Damn," Paul said.

  "I have an idea," Marie offered.

  "What's that?" Connie asked.

  "Do we know how this Helga took the girl to the house?"

  "Yes. The same RIB that she used to pick me up. The captain was pissed about the conflict in timing."

  "And where is this RIB?" Marie asked.

  "Below decks, aft on the starboard side," Connie said. "There's one of those things like a garage — whatever you call 'em on a boat like this — where they keep the tenders and jet skis. They were hoisting it in when she walked me to the cabin where she locked me up."

  "A garage," Phillip said.

  "What?" Connie asked, an edge in her voice.

  "They call it a garage," Phillip said.

  Connie relaxed a little. "Oh. I didn't know that. Not very nautical, is it? What about the RIB, Marie?"

  "Yes, the RIB. Some of the big ones, they have the GPS chart-plotter, yes?"

  "Yes, I saw one on ... you're a genius, Marie!"

  "Maybe. We will see. I go now to look." She took off with urgent purpose in her step.

  "While she's gone, how about enlightening those of us with just average intelligence," Phillip said.

  "The track," Connie said, excitement in her voice.

  "The track?" Paul asked.

  "A bread crumb trail in the GPS," Connie said, impatient now.

  There was a chorus of "Ah-has" from the three men.

  In less than a minute, Marie returned, a small spiral notebook open in her hand. "Yes, there was a track. It showed the cove on the chart-plotter, even. I have the coordinates where she pulled in on the southwest corner of Mustique. It is called Gelliceaux Bay."

  "Why not just take the RIB and follow the track?" Paul asked.

  "Maybe we do that," Marie said. "But first, they must have Internet service on such a big vessel as this."

  "I'm sure they do," Connie said. "Are you thinking Google Earth?"

  "Mais oui. Exactly. We may see the picture of the house."

  Marie powered up a laptop computer that she found mounted beside the chart table on the bridge. Less than two minutes later, they were looking at a satellite image of the one house on the water in Gelliceaux Cove. The rambling mansion was less than 100 meters from the coordinates Marie had found in the RIB's GPS. She right-clicked on it and brought up several views of the house shot from the water, obviously by some tourist in a small boat in the cove.

  "Amazing," Phillip said.

  "It surely is," Paul agreed.

  "Connie?" Sharktooth asked.

  "Yes?"

  "Do you eat all the fried chicken?"

  "Yes. I'm sorry, I was — "

  "No problem. I go find the galley. We can't fight on empty stomach. I cook brunch." He headed down the staircase to the service deck.

  "I'll help him," Paul said, following.

  "Some things, the men are good for, yes?" Marie said, winking at Connie, who watched as Phillip slipped away without a word, a smile on his face.

  28

  "Ludwika?"

  "Yes?" She had dozed off on the couch in the den near the room where she was keeping the girl. "What do you want?" she asked, wincing at the cruel face that was inches from hers.

  "We will get to that later. How is the girl?"

  "You cannot — "

  "I don't ask for me, you stupid bitch. Yuri called."

  "I thought he — "

  "His schedule changed. He will be here tonight, sometime after dark. He asked if she would be ready."

  "Maybe. The drug is still in her system, but she is stirring some. We tried to time it for her to be completely awake by tomorrow morning."

  "You could perhaps give her something? To speed it up?"

  "Not without risking seizures; she is exactly what he likes. It would be a shame to waste this one by rushing things."

  "We can ask him when he gets here. Maybe he'd like her to have a seizure while he — "

  "That is sick, even for you, Bogdan."

  "Well, then, maybe Igor and I will have to amuse him while he waits. He always likes to watch us with you and your sister. Who knows? He might join in, like he did that one time. I can't remember who was the lucky one. You? Or was it Róża?" He laughed, an evil chuckle as he raised his bushy eyebrows.

  "You pig!" She spat in his face, regretting the provocation even before she felt him grab her head in both of his hands. Knowing what was likely to happen next, she clenched her jaws.

  He laughed as he ground his whiskers into her lips. She smelled his stinking breath as she felt his thumbs slip into the hollows beneath her ears. As he applied increasing pressure to the nerve centers, her jaw went slack and she felt and tasted his filthy tongue as it slithered around in her mouth. Furious at her helplessness, she felt his hands slide to her breasts, squeezing them painfully, brutally. Without thinking, she clenched her jaws again, sinking her teeth deeply into his tongue. She tasted blood before he shoved her away, doing more damage to his ravaged tongue as he tore it from the grip of her teeth.

  "You bitch!" he hissed, slapping her so hard that she lost consciousness as she heard him say, "Later, you will pay for that."

  "Now that everyone's eaten and had some time to think, we should plan our rescue," Phillip said. They were sitting around one end of a formal dining table that could accommodate 24 people, by his count. "Connie?"

  "Well, I guess we have until sometime tomorrow before Jovanovich shows up, but I don't think we should wait. Even if she's still drugged, and I kind of hope she is, the sooner we get her out of there, the happier I'll be."

  "Everybody knows my favorite time for these things, I guess," Phillip said.

  "Not me," Connie said. "Tell me."

  "I always like roughly three o'clock in the morning. Even people left on guard are sleepy by then, and the night owls will have gone to bed."

  "I don't want to wait that long," Connie said.

  "I figured that. I understand. It's a plus that there's only a small staff there. They may not even mount a guard," Phillip said. "Sharktooth?"

&
nbsp; The big man shrugged. "Plenty food in the pantry. We could wait if we have to, but I t'ink with five of us and four of them, we be okay whenever. Maybe daylight even be a good surprise, if we go in the RIB. They used to see it come, prob'ly."

  "That's a good thought," Phillip said. "Paul? Marie? Any thoughts?"

  "Daylight makes too much risk. They can see the people in the RIB, but using the RIB at night, I like that," Marie said.

  "I agree with Marie about a daylight attack," Paul said, "but Connie's right, too. From what Simmons said, they'll be trying to sober Julia up today. To me, that means there's an increased chance that some harm will come to her. Even if it's just that she's terrified, I have trouble with that. I think attacking out of the sunset might have a lot of the advantages of a dawn attack; it looks like we'll have a clear sky, so there'll be a dazzle factor if they look out at the water while we're approaching, and we could time it to hit right at dusk, when things are usually pretty quiet."

  "I like that," Connie said. "I'm in a hurry, but I see the advantages of waiting until there's some cover from darkness."

  "Sounds like a consensus is forming for dusk, maybe?" Phillip asked, looking around the table. Everyone nodded assent.

  "Okay," Connie said. "Let's talk about the particulars. How are we going to do this?"

  "Paul and I cook extra for lunch," Sharktooth said. "We pack plenty food to take. Julia prob'ly be hungry."

  "That's a good idea, Sharktooth, but I had in mind talking through how we might execute an attack," Connie said, unable to suppress a smile.

  Yuri Jovanovich studied the two men across the conference room table. Both were senators, appointed to the unicameral House of Assembly of St. Vincent and the Grenadines by the Governor General on the advice of the Prime Minister, the leader of the majority party. He knew these two effectively controlled the day-to-day workings of the parts of the government that most affected his interests. Because of their close connections to the Prime Minister, they could exert strong influence over all the country's various law enforcement organizations, ensuring that his nefarious operations were unhindered by interference from the authorities.