He stood without moving until he heard the door into the aft cabin slam shut. There was a blood-curdling scream, and a crash. Davey's unmistakable cackle followed, and then there was another scream.
Pietro smirked and tucked the pistol in his waistband. "I'm hungry," he said. "Let's go back to the galley and cook something while those animals have their fun. You may take your hands down and stand up." He gave her an almost pleasant smile.
Dani got to her feet, and obeying Pietro's gestures, she walked back to the galley as he followed, a gentle hand at the small of her back.
There was another shriek from the aft cabin, followed by a solid thump and an inhuman growl.
"Light the left front burner, please," Pietro ordered.
Dani complied, and as she turned to face him, he gently lifted her right hand, holding it in both of his as he turned it and examined it with a practiced eye.
"You're right-handed," he said.
Dani nodded.
"We'll start with your left hand, then. The flesh will be less stringy and more flavorful." He grabbed her left wrist with an unexpectedly fast motion and spun her, stepping in front of her and pulling her left arm under his left arm, clamping it to his side with his upper arm as he gripped her wrist with both hands, extending her hand toward the open flame.
"Broiled is best," he said softly. "What I believe you Americans call 'charred pink,' so that the meat is still very juicy."
There was another crash from the aft cabin, and a horrible gagging sound, as if a strangling victim fought for breath, accompanied by a series of heavy thumps and thuds.
"I'm French," Dani said, "and I like raw meat." She leapt onto his back, sinking her teeth firmly into his right trapezius muscle as she locked her ankles together in front of his thighs.
Pietro shrieked in pain and fell backwards, pinning Dani against the bulkhead behind them. As she bore down with all the strength in her jaws, he released his grip on her left arm, trying to reach her head with both hands as he continued to scream in pain.
She quickly snaked her left hand over his left shoulder and hooked two fingers in his nostrils, ripping his head back as she felt the blood pour from his torn nose. She hooked the middle finger of her right hand into his right eye socket, forcing her fingertip into the conjunctiva next to his nose until she felt the eyeball shift and slip from the socket.
Pietro's screams stopped as he went into shock. Dani untangled herself and let his limp form slip to the deck. As she turned off the burner on the stove, she realized that things were ominously quiet in the aft cabin. She reached down and grabbed the pistol from Pietro's waistband, racking the slide to be sure there was a round in the chamber as she stepped over him. She opened the door to the aft cabin with a swift motion, sweeping the pistol through a quick arc as she surveyed the wreckage.
"You okay?" Liz asked, glancing up. She sat on the edge of the queen sized berth, an arm around Connie's shoulders. Connie was huddled under a comforter, sobbing softly. The bear-like body of their erstwhile assailant was sprawled on the deck, face up.
"Fine. You?" Dani asked, as she knelt beside Davey, pistol at his temple as she felt for a pulse in his throat.
"We're both fine; he had a little problem, though," Liz said.
"What happened?" Dani asked.
"He tore Liz's clothes off," Connie said. "Then he got really excited when he saw that I was already nude, and he started growling and grabbing at himself. Liz tapped him on the shoulder when he was about to climb in bed with me and…" Connie started giggling.
Dani looked from one to the other, waiting.
"I tapped him on the shoulder and told him I wanted to be first, because I didn't think he was man enough to do both of us," Liz started laughing.
"He went limp," Connie shrieked, "and flew into a rage. Then Liz did something and he choked."
Dani looked at Liz and raised her eyebrows.
"I drove the butt-end of the flashlight into his larynx, as hard as I could with all my weight behind it, just like you taught me. Wow! I had no idea!" Liz said.
Dani nodded. "So that was all the crashing and gagging I heard?"
"Yes," Liz said. "It seemed like forever before he finally collapsed. It was all we could do to stay out of his way."
"Yeah. Can take a minute or two, sometimes. Probably seemed longer to him," Dani said.
They were interrupted by a moan, followed by gasping sobs coming from the galley.
"I'd better see to our prisoner. You two get dressed and get up on deck. Let's get some sail up and get ourselves squared away before somebody wonders why we're adrift out here."
****
Vengeance cut smoothly through the light chop in the Dominica Channel. Liz and Connie had made sail and run downwind while Dani hogtied Pietro where he had fallen. Once he was secured, she crawled down into the storage space in the lazarette, emerging after a few minutes with a canvas bag containing almost a hundred pounds of rusty anchor chain. She wrestled the bag into the cockpit with Liz's help.
"What's that for?" Connie asked.
"Ballast," Dani grunted, giving the bag a final tug as she settled it in a corner. "We don't want your dearly departed almost-lover popping up again unexpectedly."
She sat down for a minute and caught her breath. Surveying the horizon, she said, "Guess this should do it. Nobody's around, and there's 5,000 feet of water here, give or take. Let's heave to; I think it will take all three of us to get him up the companionway."
"Let's do it the easy way," Liz said.
"How?" Dani asked.
"Rig a block and tackle from the main boom; we'll hoist him with the lazy jib sheet winch."
"Good thinking," Dani said, as they sheeted in the sails and brought Vengeance around into the wind. Once they were sailing close hauled, Dani told Connie to steer to come about. As Connie complied, they went from port tack to starboard tack but they didn't adjust the sails. Once the bow passed through the wind, only the mainsail was drawing. The jib and the staysail were back-winded, resisting the drive from the mainsail. The pressure of the wind on the sails counteracted by the resistance of the hull in the water held the boat virtually motionless, with only a gentle up-and-down movement as she rose and fell with the waves passing beneath her.
Within a few minutes, Davey, the chain secured around his body, had been consigned to the deep. While they were working, Pietro had sobbed and cried incessantly, irritating Dani and worrying her companions.
"What if he dies too," Connie asked.
"He's not going to die," Dani said. "If he doesn't get medical attention in a few days, he'll probably come down with some serious infections, but none of his wounds is life-threatening. He's just a crybaby."
As they made sail again, he began wailing loudly enough to disturb their conversation in the cockpit.
"How long before Sharktooth comes and picks him up?" Liz asked.
"Hours. He doesn't want to land him in daylight."
"Can't Paul get a Coastguard chopper from Puerto Rico to pick him up, like he did that other time? You said they've got jurisdiction – piracy in international waters or something?" Liz asked.
"Or something. They attacked a U.S.-flagged vessel, so there's at least an argument for jurisdiction, but Phillip and I don't want Paul hauling him away before Sharktooth questions him," Dani said. "Sharktooth doesn't have all the constraints that Paul has."
"Can't you give him something for the pain?" Connie asked. "I mean, I don't care that he hurts; he deserves that, but his crying and screaming is driving me nuts."
"Yeah. Sure," Dani said, picking up a winch handle. "Something for the pain," she said as she started down the companionway ladder.
Liz and Connie heard Dani say, "This is for the pain, and for the bullet hole in our bulkhead, too, you asshole. Sweet dreams." There was a sickening thump, and Pietro was silent.
Chapter 31
Rolle's Kate cruised along the west coast of Guadeloupe at a leisurely speed. Pietro had called yes
terday upon arriving in Les Saintes to report that he and Davey had found Vengeance; they had planned to board her early this morning while the women were asleep and take her out into open water where they could interrogate the women without fear of interruption. Wallace and Sam had just finished breakfast and were enjoying coffee on the sundeck by the hot tub as they watched the lush, green shoreline unfolding a mile and a half away.
"I'm surprised we haven't heard from them," Sam said. "What time do you suppose they boarded Vengeance?"
"Hard to say," Wallace replied. "Pietro likes to strike around three o'clock in the morning; he says that's when most people are sleeping soundly. That would be my guess, but all kinds of things could have changed that."
Sam glanced at his watch. "That's five hours ago. What's taking them so long?"
"Relax, Sam. Pietro works slowly; he torments his victims for a while before he even begins to ask questions; it's all part of his technique. He's an artist."
"Bullshit. In five hours, he should have been able to get the history of their lives from birth. Call that creepy bastard."
Wallace picked up his satellite phone and scrolled through the directory. He pressed the call button and held the phone to his ear, glaring at Sam. After a moment, he took the instrument from his ear and pressed the end button, returning the phone to its former place on the table between them.
"It went straight to voicemail; I got the 'subscriber not available' message. He wouldn't have the phone turned on in the middle of an operation."
"Operation," Sam scoffed. "Is that what he calls it when he's munching on somebody's fingers?"
"Laugh if you want. He gets results. I've seen him reduce burly men to a gibbering bundle of raw nerves over the course of an hour or two."
Sam shook his head. "Shouldn't be that tough to get a few simple answers out of three girls. What's the plan if he doesn't call?"
"We'll be in the Saintes in a couple of hours. If we haven't heard from him by then, we'll take it from there; we can see if Vengeance is still in the harbor. For all we know, the women didn't stay on the boat last night."
"Harumph," Sam grumbled as he poured more coffee.
"Try to relax and enjoy the scenery. I've never seen it this clear along here; that mountaintop is usually shrouded in mist," Wallace said, as he stirred sugar into his own coffee.
****
Vengeance was sailing smoothly on a beam reach, headed north at the moment. She was just far enough to the west to put the islands below the horizon. Dani worried that holding a stationary position in sight of land might attract attention, so they had decided to pass the time until dark by sailing back and forth, trailing fishing lines to explain their activity if another vessel drew near. Connie was steering, and Liz was keeping her company while Dani was below with their captive, who had begun to moan again a few minutes ago.
"Odd that he left his clothes in a pile up here," Connie remarked, noticing that Liz was methodically going through the pockets and turning the garments inside out.
"Guess he was in a hurry; maybe he knew he couldn't sustain his state of readiness for very long," Liz said, chuckling. "That was some kind of strange piercing that he had, wasn't it?"
"It was pretty scary, I thought. Those barbs on the ends would have really done some damage." Connie shuddered at the recollection. "Glad you put him away when you did."
"No kidding," Liz said. "I never heard of such a thing."
"Oh, I've heard of it; remember, I grew up in southern California. Some of the fruitcakes out there were into stuff like that. Me, I was too busy trying to get enough to eat to hang out with them, but I heard the tales. Started in some of the Pacific islands, I think. Piercings like that were supposed to heighten the sensation for both partners, but they had smooth ends, kind of rounded. That thing he had looked like a medieval weapon of some kind."
"The other odd thing is that he had nothing in his pockets, and his clothes are dry," Liz said.
Happy enough to change the subject, Connie nodded. "What do you make of that?" she asked.
"Surely he must have had some identification and some money, at the very least. My guess is he must have stashed it ashore, somewhere. I wonder if they were staying in a hotel?"
"But Dani figured they were going to call someone to pick them up and sink us when they were done," Connie objected. "Wouldn't he have had everything with him, then?"
"That's a good point. The dry clothes are another puzzle. At first, I thought they must have swum out to Vengeance, but apparently not."
Their conversation was interrupted by a scream from below. Liz jumped to her feet, a worried look on her face, only to shake her head and settle back on the cockpit seat as she heard the murmur of Dani's voice.
"What's she doing?" Connie asked, frowning.
"We probably don't want to know, but I'll bet he's sorry about that bullet hole by now. If he's not yet, he will be before Sharktooth gets hold of him. She's a fanatic about the woodwork; remember how pissed off she was about the scratches in the varnish?"
"I can't wait to see this Sharktooth guy," Connie said. "Where did he get that name?"
"He runs a water taxi; the boat has a big set of dried shark's jaws on the foredeck as a kind of decoration. They became his trademark and that's the name of his boat. I guess everybody just started calling him that, too."
"What's his real name?"
"I don't know. He won't tell anybody. You'll like him, though. He's a really nice man – a gentle giant, with a bald head and dreadlocks."
Connie giggled at the image. "But what will he do with this jerk? Why would he take him?"
"He's not the simple water taxi driver that he appears to be. He was in business with Phillip Davis and Dani's father."
Connie thought for a moment. "What exactly did they do?"
"I've never gotten a straight answer about that; the longer you're around them, the more you realize that you shouldn't ask, but they always seem to be on the side of right. They operate outside the law, but mostly they seem to cooperate with the authorities – at least the ones they agree with."
"I thought they were all retired. You don't make it sound that way," Connie said.
"Just keep an open mind and be glad they're on your side."
Dani appeared at the top of the companionway ladder. She held an elongated, shiny, beige-colored pouch that had a webbing strap on each end. Tossing it onto the bridge deck, she climbed out.
"What do you have there?" Liz asked.
"It's like a waterproof money belt. Our friend was wearing it. Nothing's in his pockets. All he brought with him was this and his pistol."
"He's very quiet now," Connie said. "Did you knock him out again?"
Dani shook her head. "I gagged him; put a fishing float in his mouth and duct-taped him. He wouldn't talk, so I thought we shouldn't have to listen to his whining."
"Besides, it's probably dangerous to keep knocking him unconscious," Connie said. "Concussion, and all."
Dani gave her a sharp look. "I wasn't worried about his welfare; just tired of listening to him whine about losing his eye. Besides, I want him awake and in pain so he can wish he hadn't put that bullet in our teak, the worthless bastard."
She unzipped the pouch and began laying its contents out on the seat beside her. "Passports. Pietro Jovanovich and David Jones," she said. "Both Bahamian issued, just a little over two years ago." She took out an antique, cutthroat razor and examined it for a moment without comment.
"Satellite phone," she remarked as she punched buttons on the device. "Only two numbers in the directory. One says 'boat,' and the other is 'WR.' What do you bet if I punch up 'WR' it'll turn out to be Wallace Rolle?"
The phone chirped once, and Dani examined the screen. "Missed call, about 30 minutes ago, from WR. Probably wondering where his boys are." She gazed off into the distance for a minute before turning the phone off.
"Can they trace the location of that phone?" Connie asked.
"I don't know
," Dani said. She pried a small compartment on the bottom of the phone open with her fingernail and removed the SIM card and the battery. "Now they can't, for sure."
****
Vengeance was hove-to in a light breeze about two miles west of Portsmouth, Dominica. They were close enough to be in the protection of the big island, so the seas were calm, small waves gently lapping at the sides of the stationary yacht as the three women sipped from mugs of tea.
"It's really beautiful out here," Connie remarked. "It's so dark, looking out away from the town and the sky is so clear. I never knew there were so many stars until I got down here." She paused for a sip of tea. "When is moonrise, anyway?"
"Not for a few hours, yet," Dani replied.
"That's perfect," Liz said. "Sharktooth can land his cargo with no chance of being spotted, not that anybody will bother him, but…" she paused, cocking her head toward the shadow of the land. "Speaking of Sharktooth," she said, smiling.
"Can you recognize the sound of his boat?" Connie asked.
"No," Dani smiled. "But we're just a little too far out for it to be fishermen; it's bound to be Sharktooth."
Two minutes later, a brightly painted, 24-foot boat with big twin outboards coasted gently alongside. As Dani caught the bow line and cleated it amidships, Liz caught a stern line, and they pulled the boat into position, its soft fenders wedged between it and Vengeance's pristine hull. The visitor bounded over the rail with grace that belied his size and swept Dani into a bear hug, lifting her clear of the deck. He set her on her feet and offered Liz a fist bump.
"Blessings," he murmured, in a soothing bass tone. "Welcome to Dominica."
"Thanks," Dani said. "It's good to see you, Sharktooth. You look well."
"I am, thank you. My wife, she wish that you come to visit, she. I tell her soon come, mebbe."
"Soon come," Liz agreed. "She's going to show me how to make the roti skins. I can't get that right."
Bluewater Ice: The Fourth Novel in the Caribbean Mystery and Adventure Series (Bluewater Thrillers Book 4) Page 18