"You're making me feel like a voyeur."
"Oh, think of it as clinical observation. You're not going to see anything that's beyond PG-13, here. Like I said, he's fun to play with, but I'm not going to let things get serious."
"You're very sure of yourself," Dani said. "I wish I had your confidence."
"You aren't lacking in confidence, Dani. You're just in unfamiliar territory, like I used to be in bar fights."
"You can hold your own pretty well these days; I can still take you, but — "
"I'm still learning from you about that," Liz interrupted. "You can learn about men from me. You've got all the basic equipment; you just need to learn to use it differently. Study my moves in this, like I've studied yours in the other."
"You think I can?"
"Of course. Just pay attention. Like you taught me, keep a broad focus so you don't miss any critical tells from the opposite side. Enough of this. Now, what's our next step to find Cynthia?"
"We're not gaining anything by sitting here in the Cays. I'm thinking it's time to get back to Bequia, where it's a little less remote."
"A little less remote?"
"This thing with Chen and Wong, for example. There's something off about the way they showed up at the critical moment, and now they're asking questions about me and Sharktooth."
"You think they may be behind the questions about J.-P., too?"
"It wouldn't surprise me. The coincidence factor says they're the ones, but I do wonder how they managed to get the questions to come from some drug squad in Miami. Sharktooth might be able to find some loose ends by poking around in Kingstown. I want to know what they do besides donate money to charity, but I'd like to know if they're connected to the cops in the States, too."
"That makes sense," Liz said. "Maybe your godfather could find out more about that."
Dani thought about that for a few seconds. "I haven't talked to Mario in way too long. I'll call him tomorrow, once we're under way. That's good thinking, Liz."
"I learned from a master — or, I should say, from a mistress."
"Yuck. I'm nobody's mistress. Shut up and go to sleep, Pollyanna. We'll rise early and sail hard."
****
"Do you remember Joe DiFiore's younger brother?" Marissa Chen asked.
Li Wong sat across her desk, wondering what was coming next.
"The kid he sent out from Miami to look over our operation before they decided to distribute our stuff?" Wong asked.
"Yes. That one."
Wong recalled that she had been offended by the man's crass manner and his comments on a woman's proper place. "Mike, his name is."
"Possibly. Do you know if Joe has more than one brother?"
"Only Mike," Wong said, waiting.
After thirty seconds, she said, "I want you to hurt him."
"Mike?" Wong asked, his voice rising in surprise. By now, their partnership with the mob was well-established, and Joe DiFiore was their main contact. Wong hadn't thought of Mike since his annoying visit, years ago.
"Yes. I considered Joe, but I want him intact."
"Intact?"
"I want Mike damaged permanently."
"Killed?"
"No. I want him to be a constant reminder to his brother and the rest of those pigs that I am to be accorded the respect due me."
"You realize this may escalate, Madame," Wong said.
"If you handle it properly, it certainly will. Your personal touch is unmistakable, but they will never prove we did it. All they'll have is suspicion."
"My personal touch? You want me to go to Miami?"
"Or wherever this scum is to be found. You know what to do. Bring me the evidence of your success. Preserve it in formaldehyde. I think I'll keep it on my desk."
"To be clear, Madame, you wish him to survive this, ah ... experience?"
"Yes. Paralyzed would be nice, perhaps, but he must live. I want him to be a burden to Joe DiFiore, a reminder that he should respect women."
"I'll need some assistance if he is to live after my, uh, ministrations."
"Whatever you need. Take our plane; I want this done now."
"Madame?"
"Yes?"
"He may be able to identify me."
"Of course he will. That's essential if they are to get the message."
Wong nodded, thinking.
"Are you afraid of them, my little one?"
Wong shrugged. "A man like DiFiore will seek revenge; it's a part of their culture."
"I'm counting on it, but that will bring him to us, into my web, so to speak. Don't be afraid. I'll protect you. When we're done, Joe will be gone, and there will be no one to avenge Mike."
"But what about distribution in the States, then?"
"Joe DiFiore is one man. There are many men in that organization; he isn't in charge. I'm tired of dealing with their second tier. We will change that. I want more influence over the way our products are sold, and a bigger cut."
Wong nodded. He understood her greed; it had propelled her to heights far beyond any her family had achieved before she took over.
"One day, we will move to Miami, little one. Trust in me."
"Always, Madame."
"Good. Go. You have work to do."
Wong stood and stepped toward the door of her office.
"Wong?"
He stopped, turning toward her, and bowed slightly. "Yes, Madame."
"It is to be intact — no pieces bitten off, do you hear me?"
"Yes, Madame."
Chapter 23
Dani leaned back against the cockpit coaming, her arms stretched out to the sides. One bare foot resting on the helm, she enjoyed the feel of Vengeance charging through the moderate seas on a beam reach. Feeling pressure on her foot as the wind backed, she considered easing the sheets.
They'd been under sail for about twenty minutes. Liz had helped her make sail and get the boat balanced for the breeze, and then excused herself to take two mugs of coffee to the foredeck, where Ed sat on the forward end of the coachroof.
Dani had watched with interest as Liz handed him one of the mugs and sat down beside him. He had shifted a bit to make room for her, and then put his arm around her. His hand rested on her hip, and her head was on his shoulder. Dani shook her head, remembering their conversation last night. Liz might think she was the one in control, but Dani had her doubts. To her, Liz looked like the submissive one.
She raised her eyes to the wind vane at the top of the main mast, checking the angle of the apparent wind. She looked down at the compass and decided that the wind shift was cyclical. Instead of easing the sheets she relaxed her foot against the helm. In response to the decreased pressure on the helm, the bow fell off the wind a few degrees. Vengeance sped up a little, and the helm felt neutral against her foot again.
She would wait a few minutes and see if the wind clocked, allowing her to bring the boat back onto her desired course without trimming the sails. She saw that Liz had shifted her position just enough so that Ed had removed his hand from her hip. She had lifted her head and turned to face him, smiling up at him as she said something Dani couldn't hear.
It occurred to Dani that Liz had controlled the physical contact with Ed with the same sort of finesse that she had just used to avoid trimming the sails. Dani thought about that; her own reaction would have been to grab his wrist and force his hand to a less intimate place, like the coachroof. Maybe she could learn something about men from studying Liz's moves.
Liz had broached the subject of their return to Bequia this morning while they were eating breakfast. Ed had been reluctant to leave the Cays.
"It seems like that's taking us farther away from Cynthia," he'd said.
"No," Dani had said, ready to argue the point, but Liz silenced her with a glance.
"It puts us closer to people who can help us find her," Liz had said, picking up the conversation. She had looked up at him and batted her eyelids, a somber look on her face. With wide eyes locked on his, she
had continued. "We don't know that she's in the vicinity any longer, and being in the Cays restricts our communications to the satellite phone. Your cell phone will work in Bequia, in case Cynthia gets a chance to sneak a call to you. She knows your number, doesn't she?"
"Sure. She memorized it when she was a little kid. I hadn't thought of that. You think she might be able to get her hands on a cell phone?"
"I don't know, Ed, but if she does, that's the number she'll call. She won't have our satellite phone number."
"They won't let her near a phone," he had said, shaking his head.
"They didn't intend to let her escape, either, but she did. Don't underestimate her just because she's your child. She's a resourceful young woman."
He had nodded. "You're right about that. She knows how to get what she wants from me, for sure."
"And you're certainly no pushover. If she can manipulate her own father, imagine what she can do if she turns her attention to those lowlifes. They aren't trial lawyers, trained to question everything. They think she's just a pretty face."
"What are we waiting for? Let's go to Bequia," Ed had said.
****
Ed grasped one of the mizzen shrouds and swung himself into the cockpit. Standing on the seat, he turned and extended a hand to help Liz into the cockpit, bowing from the waist and making a sweeping gesture with his other arm. She gave him a warm smile and accepted his assistance.
"Thank you, kind sir," she said, making a curtsy as she stepped over the coaming.
Dani, suppressing a bark of laughter, coughed, gagging as she looked away to hide her reaction.
"Are you okay?" Liz asked, dropping Ed's hand and sitting down beside her friend, patting her on the back until she recovered her composure. "What happened?"
"Gagged on some gnat, or something, I guess," Dani said, glaring at her with eyes red from coughing.
"Do you need some water?"
Dani shook her head. "I'm okay. I could use a little help with the headsails, though."
"You should have called me," Liz said, rising to a crouch and turning to the port-side sheet winches.
"I didn't want ... it's okay. The wind's been cycling all morning, but it's finally backed about ten degrees in the last few minutes and seems to be holding there. Sheet them in a bit as I harden up, please."
"Can I help?" Ed asked.
"Sure," Dani said. "You sheet in the mainsail when it starts to luff."
"Luff?"
"As I turn into the wind, the main will begin to spill the air. You'll see it start to shiver along the leading edge, against the mast. That's called luffing."
"Okay," Ed said. "And then what do I do?"
Liz pointed at the mainsheet winch on the coachroof. "Watch me. I'll crank in the headsail sheets as Dani turns into the wind. When you see the main start luffing, you crank in the mainsheet with that big winch until the sail's full again."
"Got it," he said.
Dani gave the helm a slight turn to the starboard and watched as Liz and Ed trimmed the sails. She glanced down at the compass and checked her heading, adjusting the helm a bit.
"Good, Liz," she said, after studying the sails for a moment. "Ed, could you sheet in the main just a little more, please?"
He gave the winch a half a turn while watching the sail, and then looked back at Dani.
"Good," she said, nodding at him. "Thanks."
"That takes more muscle than I thought it would," he said, sitting down on the starboard side of the cockpit.
"You don't want to arm-wrestle with a grinder," Dani said.
"Grinder?" Ed looked puzzled.
"A deck ape," Dani said.
Ed shifted his gaze to Liz, raising his eyebrows.
She smiled. "Those are slang terms for the crew members who crank the winches, like me." She balled up her fists and flexed her arms, causing her biceps to pop up as the veins stood out on her slender arms.
"Some deck ape you are," he said, grinning at her. "I thought you were the chef."
"You got an appetite?" she asked, winking at him.
He grinned at her and winked back. "Mm-hmm. Lunch would be nice, too."
Dani gave Liz a disapproving look. "I could use a break from the helm before you get busy."
Liz looked at her for a moment. "Ed?" she said, "Could you take the helm and let Dani come below with me for a minute?"
"Sure," he said.
Dani slid out from behind the helm and he took her place. "Just keep her going in a straight line," she said. "You feel that little bit of pressure from the helm?"
He nodded. "Yes."
"Maintain that. If it increases, let the bow fall off a little bit to the port. If it decreases, bring the bow up until the pressure's restored. The idea is to keep her at the same angle to the wind. Got it?"
"Aye-aye, captain," he said, grinning.
She went below, Liz on her heels.
"You okay?" Liz whispered, once they were both in the galley.
Dani nodded. "I need to go to the head."
"You look nauseated."
"From watching you two lovebirds." She stepped into the head and closed the door.
Liz was fixing a warm seafood salad for lunch when the satellite phone rang. Wiping her hands on a dishtowel, she picked up the phone and studied the caller i.d. screen. Not recognizing the number, she pressed the connection icon just as Dani came out of the head.
"Good morning," Liz said. "You've reached the yacht Vengeance; this is Liz Chirac. How may I help you?"
"Good morning, Ms. Chirac," a woman said. She had an English accent that matched Liz's own. "This is Marissa Chen. I wish to speak with Danielle Berger, if I may, please. Is she available?"
"One moment, please, Ms. Chen. I'll take the phone to her." Liz touched the mute icon, thinking as she did that Chen had learned English in a girl's school in Great Britain, as she herself had. To most people, Chen's diction would have sounded flawless, but Liz picked up nuances of rhythm that indicated English was a second language to her.
"For you, Dani. It's Marissa Chen," Liz said, passing the phone to her friend and returning to the galley.
****
Cynthia sat huddled in the corner of the bunk, the remains of the cotton shift wrapped around her. She barely noticed the stench, now. Breakfast had been some kind of greasy, doughy pastry, filled with a spicy paste that tasted of salt and rotten fish. As unappetizing as it was, she had eaten it, determined to keep her strength up. She'd almost escaped once. Perhaps she could do it again.
She'd had no opportunity since she'd been brought to this dirty little ship, though. After they had dragged her out of the cabin yesterday and forced her to make the video, she'd had no contact with anyone except when they brought her food.
She shivered at the memory of how frightened she'd been when they'd come for her yesterday. The man who seemed to be in charge had surprised her then, speaking English.
"Strip now, bitch," he had barked, when the door slammed open. When she raised her hands and backed away, he had nodded at the other man. The second man laughed and stepped toward her, grabbing her right upper arm in a painful grip. She had screamed, and he slapped her.
"Shut up," the first man said, and raised his right hand, grasping the neck of the cotton shift.
With a violent jerk, he ripped the flimsy fabric all the way from neck to hem. She had given an involuntary shriek of pain as the fabric abraded her sunburned skin, and he had slapped her again.
"Quiet, bitch, until I tell you to speak."
She had flinched when the man who held her moved his free hand to grasp her bikini top. Before he could rip the fabric, the first man backhanded him, splitting his lip. "No, you fool. Not yet."
With that, he had grabbed her other arm and they had frog-marched her into a dim room where several other men sat against one wall, leering and yelling at her in the language that she couldn't understand. The men holding her arms forced her back to the opposite wall.
A bright light
came on, blinding her, and the man who spoke English held a newspaper up in front of her face. In the moment that it blocked the dazzling light, she saw that there was a video camera on a tripod, aimed at her. The man dropped the newspaper, and when he did, disco music blared from a loudspeaker.
"When we let you go, you will dance, bitch, or I will give you to them. Dance sexy, and I will save you from them. You understand?"
"Y-yes," she said, and he and the other man released her and backed away.
She had danced for a few seconds, and then he had squeezed her breast and whispered to her to beg her father to do what he was told. When she complied, he and the other man had grabbed her and brought her back to the little cabin, locking her in again.
She remembered seeing two frightened-looking, battered women in the corridor as they dragged her along. She thought there might have been a man with a gun, but she had been too scared to be sure what she was seeing. She had waited, terrified, for what seemed like hours. At last, the door had banged open, and the same two men had removed the two buckets, one of which she had used to relieve herself. They replaced them with two more, and left another bowl of the tasty stew.
She had thought that the bucket of water was probably for her to drink, but she hadn't been desperate enough, yet. She reasoned that the stew had enough liquid to keep her somewhat hydrated.
She had taken the cheap metal spoon and made two scratches in the scarred paint of the bulkhead beside the bunk. She couldn't see outside, so she couldn't guess the time, but she had been fed what she thought was dinner, twice, and breakfast once. She thought she must have been here two days, now. She scratched her name into the paint, as well.
She eyed the bucket of foul-looking water, thinking that soon she would have to give in and drink some. The salty filling of the pastry had given her a powerful thirst.
Chapter 24
"Good morning, Madame Chen. Thank you for taking my call."
His voice was smooth, his accent cultured. The Dragon Lady had not expected that. "Good morning, Mr. Gregorio. To what do I owe this pleasure?"
"I like that, Madame — straight to business. I shouldn't have waited so long to call you. I let Joe DiFiore work with you because he was the one who first discovered the quality of your merchandise, and it just went on from there."
Bluewater Ganja: The Ninth Novel in the Caribbean Mystery and Adventure Series (Bluewater Thrillers Book 9) Page 13