"Well, like Papa, he says that he's retired, but neither of them can stand to be idle. Mario is a businessman; he's into commercial construction, all over the world. He's always working on some kind of deal, but he never talks about it. You had some other questions?"
"Should I return the diamonds?"
Dani was struck dumb for a moment. "Of course not. You found them; you have as much right to them as those crooks. They either stole them or bought them with stolen money. It's rough justice, but they deserve to lose them. Besides, you're already screwed, figuratively, and so are Liz and I."
"What do you mean, screwed?" Connie asked.
"Another friend of Papa's has a saying that getting screwed is a one-way proposition. Once you're screwed, you can't get unscrewed. The best you can do is get even; screw whoever screwed you."
"I'm not sure I understand. If I keep the diamonds, those men will probably kill me."
"Us, Connie. They'll kill us. Or try to, anyway. People like Rolle and Alfieri play for keeps. Even if you return the diamonds, they'll still have to kill us, the way they see things."
"So what do you think I should do? I feel badly that I've gotten you involved in this."
"It's fate. You didn't plan to get us involved. And it's not just what you should do, at this point. It's what we should do. We'll come through this together, or not at all. By the time we're done, you'll feel like you earned the diamonds, I expect."
"I'll share them with you, then."
"Don't worry about that. You're paying us our asking price for our services."
"But your services didn't include all this," Connie protested.
"No, you're right. 'All this,' as you put it, we'll do for the hell of it. Besides, we have to survive. You don't need to pay us to fight for our own survival."
Connie looked at Liz, who smiled and nodded.
"Ready for dessert?" Liz asked as she stood and walked back to the galley.
Chapter 20
"Damn!" Paul Russo muttered. He sat in the shade of the cockpit awning on his 30-foot sailboat, anchored in the midst of the Venetian Islands. He was not far from the Miami Yacht Club, where he had parked his car before rowing out in his dinghy. The boat was a new acquisition inspired by his recent experience sailing in the Caribbean.
He had just spent several hours varnishing the toe rail and hatch covers of his new love and had settled back to enjoy a cold beer. He was admiring his handiwork when a dragonfly touched down in the still-tacky varnish of the companionway hatch cover.
"Damn," he repeated, shaking his head. He knew that the best thing to do was to wait until the varnish was dry; then he could sand down the damaged area where the bug was stuck and apply another coat. Still, he was fighting the urge to pluck the struggling insect from the center of what had been the mirror-like surface of the hatch cover. He was saved from his folly by the insistent ringing of his cell phone.
"Hello," he said, his eyes still focused on the frustrated dragonfly.
Paul recognized Mario Espinosa's voice as he heard the man say, "Good afternoon, my friend. Are you well?"
"Hey, Mario. I'm fine, thanks. Just relaxing on the boat for a while. What's new?"
"Ah, you yachtsmen! It's a beautiful afternoon for a cruise on Biscayne Bay."
"That may well be, but I'm still sanding and varnishing all this teak. I have a new appreciation for how much work Dani and Liz put into maintaining Vengeance. I had no idea about this yachting life until you hooked me up with that bunch down in the islands."
Mario chuckled. "Those girls, and Phillip; they make it all look so easy, don't they."
"Have you heard from any of them lately? I think of them every time I'm on the boat."
"Well, yes, actually. Not directly, but I got a call from J.-P. a little while ago. We have need of your connections; Dani and Liz have had some minor difficulty that perhaps involves some of the less savory citizens of our city."
"That Dani is something else. What did she get Liz into this time?" Paul asked with a rueful laugh.
"Well, actually one of their charter guests brought some unexpected baggage with her – several million dollars' worth of diamonds, and it seems that her ownership of the stones is in dispute. Let me tell you what I know from J.-P."
Paul listened quietly, mentally filing away the salient points with the skill acquired from his years as a senior homicide detective. When Mario had finished, Paul said, "So, I'm guessing you want me to see what I can find out about Alfieri and Rolle."
"I think that would be helpful, if you have the time," Mario agreed. "If nothing else, it would make me and J.-P. a little less worried for Dani if we knew more about these people."
"I'd like to start with this Toby Rodriguez; you said he's local."
"He was. He was a local crook from way back," Mario said. "Part of a big Cuban-American crime family."
"I'll see if I can track him down, then. He might know more than he told your friends."
"He might. Unfortunately, he has disappeared since my friends questioned him, so you may not be able to find him."
"You think he's hiding?" Paul asked.
"I think some people were upset that he talked as much as he did. His wife, I think it is, she has told some mutual acquaintances that two men, two very strange men, came for him late last night, and she hasn't heard from him since."
"I see. This sounds serious, Mario."
"Yes, I think so, too. You see now why J.-P. and I are worried for Dani and Liz."
"Let me see what I can find out. I'll touch base with some of the DEA guys and see if they know anything about Alfieri or Rolle. I'll give you a call when I have something."
"Thanks, Paul. That's good of you."
"My pleasure. And give my best to J.-P. and Dani and Liz. I haven't heard from them since we were all at Phillip and Sandrine's wedding."
****
"Why are we stopping in St. Barth's?" Connie wanted to know. She had the helm again; they had left Île de la Fourchue under sail after lunch. "Couldn't we make Antigua this evening?"
"Surely, we could," Liz explained, "but we'd get in awfully late, and we don't have a departure clearance from our last port of call anyway. Customs and immigration in Antigua are famously persnickety."
"But what about customs in St. Barth's?" Connie asked.
"The authorities in the French islands don't sweat the small stuff," Liz said. "That doesn't mean they don't care, but they know they're part of a tourist economy, and it's good business to be lenient about minor things. Besides, we cleared into French St. Martin, and they have the habit of closing their customs office there at random times. The French customs agents in St. Barth's know that, and it's kind of all in the family for them, I guess."
"So we'll clear in there and then clear out to get the paperwork we need for Antigua?" Connie asked.
"Exactly. Besides, there's some wonderful snorkeling at Anse Colombier, just a short dinghy ride from Gustavia, the port of entry. Colombier is part of the marine park, like Forchue. We'll pick up a mooring there and dinghy in to Gustavia to do the paperwork in the morning. We'll enjoy the day tomorrow. There's great shopping in Gustavia if money's no object. We can do a little sight-seeing and window shopping while Dani clears in. In the afternoon, we'll go swimming and watch the charter boats' antics. I'll grill more of that mahi-mahi for dinner, and we can turn in early. With the forecast we've got, we should be able to leave at dawn the next day and make Antigua by dark."
"Do we have to clear in and out with customs and immigration every time we move?" Connie asked, frowning. "I'm new at this; it seems like a lot of red tape, and what if…"
Liz waited for Connie to finish her thought.
"What if, um, those people, er…" Connie stopped, searching for words.
Liz studied her face for a moment as Connie steered. "You're worried that they may come looking for us in Antigua?" she asked.
"Right. How hard would it be for them to find us? Can they, like, bribe the custom
s people or something?"
"Well, first they'd have to figure out where we went. Legally, we do have to clear in and out every time we enter a new country, which means just about every island."
"That's a pain," Connie said. "What if you don't?"
"They check. Not all the time, but often enough. The penalties are severe; we could lose the boat and go to jail. You get used to it; it's part of this life."
"But we're leaving a trail every time we do that," Connie protested. "Can whoever's after us get access to that information?"
"They could bribe somebody in St. Martin, maybe, to look up our departure clearance, but we didn't check out, so there's no record, remember; Dani knows her way around this kind of stuff. To find us, they'd have to check the entrance clearances at a whole bunch of islands. Even if they've got the connections, that's not easy or quick. And then there's Antigua; actually it's properly called Antigua and Barbuda. Those are the two big islands that make up most of the land area. Even if they tracked us to the country, they'd still have to find us. Yachting activity isn't concentrated in a few places there like it is in St. Martin. There are a lot of anchorages scattered over a lot of square miles, and a lot of big, fancy yachts. It's a much better place to hide out than St. Martin or St. Barth's."
"I feel like I'm never going to stop running now, Liz," Connie said. "Where will this end?"
"That, I can't answer. But don't underestimate Dani and her father; you've got some strong allies in them."
"But these people are serious criminals," Connie worried.
"Keep the faith, Connie. I can't tell you how it's all going to play out, but in the end, my money's on you walking away with the diamonds. Dani wasn't just talking big when she told Willie that whoever sent him had no idea what they'd gotten into."
"Is her father, um, well…" Connie paused, unsure of how to ask her question.
"He's a powerful man."
"He almost sounds like some kind of super crook, or something," Connie said.
"Well, he and his cronies are a law unto themselves, all right. Whether they're crooks or not depends on your perspective, I'd say, but they broker deals with governments. They're that powerful, and from what I can tell, they're on the right side with the governments they pick. Of course, the people on the other side would disagree. Anyway, you couldn't have a better man looking out for you. Just relax and enjoy the ride."
"But I feel like I dragged you and Dani into this."
"Don't kid yourself. Dani loves this kind of action; feel sorry for the people chasing you, like poor Willie."
"But what about you?"
"Me? Dani saved my life and she's the best friend I've ever had. I'm with her all the way. Besides, she's fun to watch. Just don't scratch the varnish and you'll be fine."
Chapter 21
"Slow down, dammit! This was a stupid idea, anyway," Davey grumbled as he got soaked yet again.
"Oh, you're just cross because you didn't get to score with Toby Rodriguez's woman when we were in Miami," Pietro teased.
Pietro was steering their stolen dinghy through the choppy anchorage in Marigot Bay, St. Martin. Given the sloppy sea state, his speed was too fast for comfort. They had completed a fruitless search of the lagoon already; if they didn't find Vengeance anchored off Marigot, they would check Simpson Bay and Great Bay before they ditched the dinghy and rented a car.
Pietro laughed at Davey's white-knuckled grip on the lifeline along the side of the inflatable tube. "You may think it's stupid, but we're here and Mr. Rolle is home, dry and comfortable. Don't forget he's paying us."
"I'd do it for nothing, just to get at those women," Davey said, remembering the pictures of Dani and Liz on the Vengeance website. "But nobody would be dumb enough to sit still when somebody's lookin' for 'em."
"Maybe they thought Willie was just some local thief," Pietro said. "People break into unoccupied yachts all the time. They may not know we're looking for them."
"Jesus!" Davey shrieked as a 40-foot go-fast boat passed uncomfortably close by, raising a wake that threatened to swamp their small RIB. "Oh, man! Never mind. Did you see the rack on that babe, Pietro? The one sunbathing on the back?"
"Keep your mind on our business, Davey. There are three women just waiting for you; all we have to do is find them."
"Yeah," Davey said. "Hey, we shoulda asked Willie if Velasquez is as good lookin' as them two blondes. I like spic women, if they ain't fat. Dark an' mysterious, yeah?"
****
"You know, I've been thinking about what Papa said the other night," Dani said. She and Connie were drinking coffee in Vengeance's cockpit while Liz fixed a light breakfast.
"What about it?" Connie asked.
"About you being Maria Velasquez. Is that passport good?"
"Yes. I worked all that out several years ago."
"Where did you get the passport? You buy it somewhere?"
"No, I built the whole identity; it's not too hard if you take the time to figure it out. It's the real thing; I started with a birth certificate, got a driver's license, registered to vote, everything."
"You mean that's a real passport?"
"Yes. Issued by the U.S. passport office. Why, Dani?"
"Papa put the idea in my head. These people chasing you don't know you're Connie Barrera; they think you're Maria Velasquez, right?"
"Right," Connie said, looking puzzled.
"Connie Barrera was on Vengeance when she cleared in at Marigot in French St. Martin. She might still be there. Or she could have taken a plane from there, a private flight with no paperwork. And that's only if somebody thinks to check the entrance paperwork for Vengeance."
"So?" Connie frowned.
"So until I do the paperwork to clear in here at St. Barth's, you don't exist, as far as Vengeance and the authorities are concerned. If you give me the Velasquez passport and I use it for the paperwork, Connie Barrera's not a part of any of this."
"I think I get it. I can be Maria until this is over, right?"
"You can be Maria until you decide you want to be Connie again. What I'm thinking is that if there's any lingering problem later on, there's nothing to connect Maria Velasquez and Connie Barrera."
"I think I like this idea, Dani."
"We'll need to decide now, before I clear with customs and immigration. If I put you on the crew list this morning as Connie, you'll be stuck with being Connie at least until we get to Martinique."
"What's special about Martinique?" Connie asked.
"I have a family connection there, sort of -- a former partner of Papa's who's like my older brother."
"And he's from Martinique?" Connie asked.
"No, he's American, but his wife is a senior customs official there; she could finesse the paperwork if you wanted to go back to being Connie. Say we get this whole mess cleared up by the time we get there. Or Maria could leave a clear trail from here to Martinique, and then just disappear into thin air, diamonds and all, if we haven't resolved it by then."
"How did you come up with all this, Dani?"
"It's probably hereditary; I don't know. What do you think?"
"Let's do it!" Connie said.
"Okay, Maria, move over, please," Liz said, climbing out of the companionway with a breakfast tray. "I think it'll be fun." She hummed a few bars of 'Maria,' from the musical, West Side Story, as she poured fresh coffee for everyone.
****
Paul Russo sat at the breakfast bar in his condo in Coconut Grove, jotting down notes from his telephone conversation with one of his former associates. Although Paul had been a homicide detective before he retired from the Miami Police Department, he had often worked with DEA and Homeland Security people on task forces targeting the drug trade. Miami, as the unofficial capital of Latin America, was a hotbed of smuggling and money laundering for the multibillion dollar industry. He had made a couple of calls yesterday and had just hung up the phone from his first response.
Paul's DEA contact had recognized Wallace Rol
le's name when Paul spoke to him yesterday. Its mere mention had provoked a frustrated tirade from his former colleague. "I love the Bahamas and the people, but damn! I mean, money will buy politicians everywhere, but it's always been ridiculous down there. Anybody with enough money can make their own rules, just like Carlos Lehder did in Norman's Cay years ago."
"Is Rolle in that league?"
"Hard to say. He's maybe even more untouchable than Lehder was; he's a local with a bazillion relatives everywhere and more money than the whole government, so it's hard to pin down details, but there's enough smoke around the guy that you gotta figure he's on fire. It's tough enough to get the dirt on outsiders who're paying off the right people, let alone a hometown boy. He's guaranteed to be crooked, but we've never pinned anything on him. Even if we did, he'd probably sit back on his yacht and smile at us. You know the Bahamas and extradition."
"How about Sam Alfieri?" Paul asked.
"That's a new name," his friend said.
"You mean he just came on the scene?"
"I mean we've never heard of him. No hits in any of our databases; no record. Period."
"He's supposedly an ex-pat American; what about his passport?"
"Like I said. No record. Gotta be an alias, but without prints or a picture or something, he's unknown. Where'd you get his name, anyhow?"
Paul thought quickly and decided to keep it simple. He wouldn't lie to his friend, but tossing out Mario's name served no purpose at this stage, so he told an abbreviated version of the story of Willie's break-in aboard Vengeance and gave Willie credit as the source of his information.
"Guy sounds like a loser," his friend remarked. "Think you should believe him?"
"He gave up Rolle," Paul pointed out. "Why lie about an unknown like Alfieri and give up somebody with some real juice? Rolle could hurt him for sure."
"Good point. Think we could get that gal, Dani, to come twist some arms for us?"
"She wouldn't fit in, Joe; no tolerance for bullshit. She'd break her boss's arm as quick as she broke Willie's," Paul said with a chuckle.
"I'm picturing one of these lady wrestlers, all oiled-up and muscle-bound. Big hair, bleached bright yellow. She sounds like a tough babe to me. Roller-derby material."
Bluewater Ice: The Fourth Novel in the Caribbean Mystery and Adventure Series (Bluewater Thrillers Book 4) Page 12