As we approached the growing flotilla at the bajo, someone waved at us from Nacho's boat. "Wave back, Mac. Make them think all is well, and whatever crappy plot you jerks have hatched is working. And why three days? What's happening during that time?"
He clammed up.
"Okay, then, tell me this much, at least. Is that Nacho's boat?"
"Yes."
Okay, he was telling the truth there. "How did your partners in crime get it? The last I heard it was being towed into La Paz by the Mexican Navy."
"Trust me, Hetta, the less you know, the better."
"I never like knowing less. In fact, I want to know it all."
"Aye, you are that."
I let his dig slide. If this mysterious "they" only needed three more days to accomplish something that involved kidnapping, and perhaps murder, it must be coming to a head fast. Maybe that is why he couldn't take the time to go all the way to Mag Bay with me? Or, did I have something on board they wanted? Or, was it my boat he wanted?
Too many unanswered questions, along with a narcotic hangover, made my head throb. I was far too fatigued and under-gunned to engage in a dust up at sea with an unknown number of bad guys.
"Okay, Mac. I'm going to gamble and trust you, which is probably the stupidest thing I've done since day before yesterday when I trusted you."
He looked like he couldn't believe his good luck, so I let him know I meant bidness. "Here is what is going to happen. I'm going to let you swim to your nefarious friends, but if I see anything at all that alarms me, and I mean anything, I'm going to run you down with this boat. Those Red Devils can't hold a candle to what mayhem a couple of bronze props at high rpm can do. Got that?"
"Aye."
"You will tread water for thirty minutes before swimming for the bajo. I don't think we have to synchronize our watches because if you leave that spot before your time is up, I will be on the radio calling in the gendarmes and everyone else in this area, so whatever you guys are up to will go to Hell in a handbasket."
"Ten minutes."
"You're bargaining with me?"
"I just know what will work. Fifteen."
"Deal."
"You will no regret this. There is much more at stake than you know."
"You could tell me, but obviously you won't. So, for now, I'll let the bungee cord go, and you work your way to the back of the boat, nice and slowly." Like he had a choice, what with an anchor around his waist.
The bungee cord was stretched to its very limit, and I had trouble unhooking it from the rail. When I finally worked one end loose it went flying and the plastic-coated hook hit Mac in the back of his head quite smartly. "Watch it!"
"Oops. Stand up and move on down."
"I canna swim with this albatross of an anchor around me."
"I know that. But you can walk with it, so get to it."
He executed a Quasimodo lurch down to the back deck, each step punctuated with a curse as the anchor hit him in some personal places. Then, under the watchful barrel of my new best friend, he unwound himself from his trusses, dropped the anchor onto the deck, and before he dove overboard, turned and said, "Hetta, thank you for your trust. I haven't earned it, I know, but if something happens to me, I want you to know it wasn't your fault." Before putting the boat in gear I yelled back, "It might be if you doublecross me!"
He shook his head and hollered. "Haggendass!" as he swam away.
Wondering what manner of Scottish slur he'd besmirched me with as a parting shot, I waved him my own single-digit gesture, redlined the tachs, and hauled ass for Partida.
Pelicano had turned north and put on some speed as well, but as I pulled away, it turned back. Hells, bells
Turning on the autopilot, I kept an eye on both Mac and the shrimp boat with my binoculars. Mac, the rat, didn't tread water for more than a couple of minutes before striking out for the pangas. So much for his word! Never mind, Hetta, you'll be out of sight around the end of the island before he can even reach the bajo, and the shrimper couldn't catch me now if he wanted to.
For insurance, however, I picked up the mic on my VHF and turned the radio power on HIGH. "Any vessel vicinity of Isla Partida, this is Raymond Johnson. I am inbound to the north end of Partida with an onboard emergency. Request medical assistance."
The radio sprang to life with a jumble of responses.
Now I had a posse on the way, and the last thing Mac and company wanted was a bunch of witnesses if, or more likely when, they came after me in those fast moving pangas. But, I wouldn't sic the gendarmes on them. Yet. After all, I didn't exactly want the authorities on my tail, either.
However, I was going to have to come up with a convincing medical emergency, because crying wolf to other cruisers is a sure-fire way to end up on the receiving end of a verbal flogging as well as getting a bad reputation. Okay, so maybe it was way too late for that bad rep thing.
Or, perhaps I could explain to them that I didn't think yelling, "Pearls!" was a very effective distress call?
Chapter Thirty-three
Tucked safely back at the Partida anchorage, surrounded by other vessels and concerned boaters, I was shaky, but relieved. And exhausted.
And although I assured her that my chest pains had abated, a nurse in the fleet insisted I endure a cautionary medical exam. My blood pressure was a little high, but whose wouldn't be if they'd lived in my flip flops for the past twenty-four hours? Make that forty years.
I provided cold beer and other drinks for those who gathered on Raymond Johnson, eager to show support. When my own three beers caught up with me, I began yawning and they politely left, but assured me they were only a radio call away.
My need for sleep was superceded by an urgency to talk to Jan, as I was unsure she had even reached Lopez Mateos. Much to my relief, she answered.
"Hetta! Thank goodness. Where the hell are you? Jill called and said you wouldn't be in Cabo, but she's worried even though you told her not to call the feds. What's going on? We're expecting you to arrive here tomorrow afternoon."
"I'm back at Partida."
"What? Why?"
I told her of my horrible day, thanked her profusely for stealing Nacho's gun, which probably saved my life, but was too tired to share all the mean stuff I'd done to Mac, even though I knew she'd be delighted. I did let her know I'd cut Mac loose at the bajo on his promise to return Nacho if I didn't squeal for the feds for at least three more days.
"And you say they had Nacho's boat back out there?"
"Yep. And Mac told me Nacho was fine, and if I just wait it out, it'll be over in a few days. Whatever it is."
"And, of course, we should believe the lying sack of caca."
"Which I don't, but I checked that GPS tracker on Nacho's boat as soon as Mac swam away, and for sure it was his."
"Interesting. The Navy towed it off, and now it's back? I smell a large rat."
"Yeah, that's what I thought."
I heard someone in the background and Jan added, "By the way, Chino says you owe him a bunch of money for diesel fuel. It's all stored in fifty-five gallon drums at Granny Yee's."
"Who knows? I might need it yet. How's Po Thang?"
"Pouting. Ever since we left you at Balandra."
"Put him on."
She held the phone for Po Thang, I sweet-talked him for a couple of minutes, and then Jan got back on. "Yuck, there's dog slobber all over my phone. Have you called Jenks yet to let him know you aren't headed for the border?"
"I left a message."
"Did this message you left contain anything resembling the truth?"
"Not exactly. I said I had boat trouble and had returned to Marina de la Paz."
"You better grab an extinguisher, Chica, your knickers are ablaze."
"Hey, I feel bad, but I figure if he thinks I'm safely at a marina it'll settle him down. It's not like he can do anything to help me from over there, you know."
"Hetta, you already told him the feds were after you, and you had to leav
e the country! What part about you not leaving the country is going to make him happy? He'll be worried. You just gotta learn to keep your stories straight."
"Okay, I'll tell him the feds are no longer interested in me. It might even be true. Hell, maybe they never really were, and I panicked without reason."
"Oh, I think you had plenty of reason, and still do, but we're back to square one."
"I know. Look, why don't you have Chino phone that number Javier called when he was on the boat and see who answers? Maybe he can talk to someone, you know, feel them out about me."
"Who does he ask for? Lieutenant Javier of the blue panga? That doesn't sound very official."
"It's Lieutenant Morales. I peeked at his drivers license when we pantsed him. We should' a kept the pendejo's chorts for making us believe he was just a courier."
"Yeah," she drawled, "I know how much you abhor artifice. Anyhow, I'll ask Chino to make the call."
"Good. Uh, and I need a really, really big favor."
"Your favor karma has reached critical mass, and not in a good way. What now?"
"Can you call Jenks and tell him it was all a misunderstanding, and the feds don't want me for anything? You, he'll believe."
"Maybe that's because I've never lied to him?"
"But you've ratted me out to him from time to time, so he trusts you. You'll be doing him a favor. He's a good guy, half-way around the world, and there's no sense in keeping him worried, right? I mean, he can't do anything anyhow, because the one guy he calls when we're in a jam is Nacho, and that ain't gonna happen, may he rest in peace."
"I thought you said Nacho isn't dead?"
"Okay, so maybe he isn't, but Jenks still can't call him for help."
"Standby, gotta talk to Chino."
While I waited I checked the GPS tracker on Nacho's boat. It was still at the bajo. What if he was on it, hurt, and needing help? It was high tide, I could go out through the cut in DawgHouse, and if the other boats were gone, check it out. But night was fast approaching, and I was dog tired. Maybe in the morning?
Jan came back to the phone, "I'll call Jenks. I'll lose any credibility I've ever had with him if this thing goes badly, but I'll fib to him for his own good, just this once. But only if you stay put. Chino and I will be there by tomorrow afternoon. We'll hire a panga in La Paz to bring us out. Agreed?"
"Yes, yes, and yes! Cross my heart and hope to die I will not leave this boat. You'll bring Po Thang?"
"Of course."
"And some of Granny Yee's carnitas?"
"Don't push your luck. Will you be okay there by yourself for tonight?"
"Yep. I didn't go back to our usual anchoring spot, so I'm smack dab in the middle of the fleet. And, they are keeping an eye on me because of that TIA."
"What the hell is a TIA?
"Transient Ischemic Attack. I'm all better now."
Silence. Then a big sigh. "I don't even want to know."
Chapter Thirty-four
As weary as I was after being drugged, then waxing devious, and being a downright bully-dame, I was restless. Actually, I'd kind of enjoyed the bully part because Mac deserved it, but I guess I was feeling a tweak of conscience for the fake TIA I'd conjured up to justify declaring a medical emergency to my fellow boaters.
Or maybe my inability to sleep was the aftereffect of whatever Mac slipped in my tea, which I could have used a tiny hit of again. I had a bad case of the heebie-jeebies. Every little noise sent me leaping out of bed and peering outside. I'd checked all the locks on the doors several times, and couldn't stop watching my security cameras. I missed my guard dog something awful.
Sometime after midnight, I took a slug of Nyquil and moved from my comfy queen up to the main cabin settee. Less comfortable, yes, but at least I could easily see outside while I awaited Nyquil's surefire wave of nirvana. To quote one of my favorite lines by Blanche Deveraux in the The Golden Girls, I was as jumpy as a virgin at a prison rodeo.
Before turning in for what proved a restless night, I'd poked around in the guest cabin, snooping through Nacho's and Mac's belongings they'd left behind. Mac's gallon-sized plastic zip bag held toiletries, and a wallet containing a drivers license confirming the story of his home town in Scotland, and five thousand pesos, which I stuck in my pocket. Call it dues.
Nacho's aftershave was Canoe. I'd wondered why every time he showed up showered and shaved for cocktail hour I got a case of nostalgia; there was this baseball pitcher from the Dominican Republic...but I digress.
I dabbed a little Canoe behind my ears.
Mac had stuffed his shorts and tees into a raggedy duffle bag, Nacho's clothes were neatly folded on shelves. Nacho wears tighty whities, Mac evidently wears nothing at all, which brought to mind that kilt thing. Looked like Nacho was reading a Lee Child novel (of course) and Mac? One of the Outlander series (of course).
Why is it the men in my life are so unpredictable and not more nerdish? Even Jenks's touch of nerd-dom is overridden by his adventures around the world, which are why he is seldom around. Nacho lives a shadowy existence straddling both sides of the law, and Mac? Suffice it to say, I have permanently erased him from my dance card.
Nacho must have been keeping his important things—the ones he didn't want me getting into—on his boat because I found no wallet, computer, or paperwork of any sort in the cabin. Another good reason to go get that boat.
I checked the GPS tracker again. Yep, still out there but a low battery warning let me know I wouldn't be able to track Nacho's panga for much longer.
Chino and Jan were due out the next day, so when they arrived, I figured we could take the boat they'd hired to run out and retrieve Nacho's panga. Along the malecon in La Paz, pangas are lined up every day, their drivers waiting hopefully for some one to hire them for a run to the islands, so I knew the driver would appreciate some extra cash. Lucky for him I'd just happened upon five thousand extra pesos. Coincidence? You be the judge!
After dawn, I finally got a few hours sleep, but later in the morning concerned boaters began stopping in to check if I was okay. They were all so nice, bringing me muffins, cookies and herbal tea, I almost came down with a case of the guilties, but evidently we mini-stroke victims recover quickly from the burden of telling the truth.
Jan called about halfway out from La Paz, while she still had a cell signal, to let me know they were inbound with even more treats in hand. And, she added, she had a surprise for me.
I hate surprises and Jan knows it. I figured this little tease was the first of many ways she planned to torment me for...well, everything.
Yep, surprises suck.
Jan, Po Thang, Chino and, uh-oh, Javier arrived just before lunch. That's Lieutenant Javier, of the blue panga, Nacho connection and pantsing. I couldn't help noticing he wore a belt now, perhaps as less of a fashion statement than a security measure.
As they neared I saw Po Thang leaning against Javier's leg, gazing up in adoration. Perfidious cur. Then I noticed Javier was both driving the boat and eating a candy bar, a multitask which my dog hoped would result in dropped chocolate. Javier, however, stuffed the last of the candy into his mouth and a disappointed Po Thang immediately turned toward me, as though my presence was a complete surprise.
His exuberant, "OMG, it's you!" act was less than convincing, but I was so happy to see him I went along. He bounded up the stairs and almost flattened me, whining and bashing me with that tail of terror. I bent down on one knee and buried my face in his fur. His breath was chocolaty.
I sniffed and gave Jan, who was second to board, a frown. She shrugged and whispered, "Javier gave him a tiny piece before I could stop him. He'll live. You? Maybe not. What the hell have you gone and got us into this time?"
"Me?" I hissed, "You're the one who brought the fed."
"Chino did it. We traced the number from Javier's telephone conversation with some captain, and Chino called in a few favors. He is, after all, a highly respected Mexican with lots of contacts, which we sometimes
forget because he doesn't throw his weight around. Something one of us could take a lesson from. Anyhow, the good news? What I told Jenks wasn't a lie. According to Javier, the feds have no ax to grind with you."
Chino joined us, his arms full of grocery bags. "¡Hola! Hetta. What are you two whispering about? And where do you want the carnitas?"
"In a tortilla, stat!"
Javier arrived with overstuffed arms, as well. I eyed his shorts and he grinned. "Do not think of it!"
I gave both guys a hug around the bags, and Po Thang didn't like that much. He grabbed the bottom of a plastic bag and tugged. It broke open, but to his dismay, only oranges rolled out.
We all scrambled to catch rolling naranjas before they went overboard, and Po Thang, eager to get in the game, dashed about barking and nipping at other bags. Jan grabbed him by the collar, snapped on a leash, and clipped him to a rail.
The entire crew collapsed into deck chairs, howling with laughter. Po Thang howled as well, but in frustration at being tethered. I popped up and got four beers from the deck fridge, so we put off taking the groceries down to the galley.
As we relaxed, a panga roared into the anchorage way too fast, throwing a rooster tail and a very dangerous wake. And it was headed directly for us.
"Isn't that Nacho's boat?" Jan yelled.
Javier, Chino and I all spoke at the same time.
"Si."
"Yes."
"Mierda!"
Only Chino flew into action. Faster than I thought possible, he jumped down into Javier's panga, untying it on the way, started the engines and hit the throttles just after Javier made his own graceful leap to join him. Their lives spent in pangas made this action look easy, but I would have broken my neck.
"Get ready to jump if he hits the boat!" Chino yelled over his shoulder at Jan and me. "We'll try to head him off."
Like stunt men out of a Western or action movie, they caught up with the speedster, pulled alongside, and gave it a bump, diverting it from Raymond Johnson, but toward the fleet. It was bearing down quickly on all those anchored boats when Javier leaped into Nacho's boat and instantly pulled back the throttles. The boat settled into it's own wake so fast that water almost swamped the outboards.
Just Different Devils Page 18