Bahama Crisis

by Desmond Bagley

  "We have excellent jails. Mangan, go away. I want to see you going back down the Waterway."

  "Let's go," I said quietly, and turned the boat away.

  "Your goddamn cops!" said Billy disgustedly.

  "You'd think he'd want our help, even thank us for it."

  "Be quiet!" I said.

  "I'm thinking."

  Again I wished I had a map. I had used the Waterway many times when I had Lucayan Girl, but I had always stuck to the main channel and had not bothered to explore the maze. Now I wished I had. I had a map ofFreeport-Lucaya in my office and I tried to visualize the layout of the Waterway.

  We went on a mile down the Waterway and came to another inlet on the same side as the one blocked by the Customs launch. I said, "We're going in here."

  "Is there a through connection?"

  "No."

  "Then what's the use?"

  I said, "Billy, every section of this water-riddled bit of real estate has but one connection with the main channel, like the one we're in now. Deane knows that and he's sitting there like a terrier outside a rabbit hole wafting for Robinson to come out. Robinson may not know that and if he doesn't he'll be looking for another way out.

  So what happens when he can't find one? "

  "He'll leave the boat and take to land."

  "Yes. And he's on the town side this time. It wouldn't be too hard for him to steal a car, and he stands a sporting chance of getting away. I think Deane is counting on Robinson wasting enough time looking for an exit to allow Perigord to bring up his reinforcements, and I think he's taking a hell of a chance."

  "So?"

  "So we're going in to chase him into Deane's arms."

  "How in hell are we going to do that if there's no interconnection?"

  "Portage," I said.

  "Now I'm glad we came in this boat and not the other."

  I had timed the minutes we had taken to get from one inlet to the other, and had kept a constant speed. Now we were going back, parallelling the Waterway on a minor canal. I reckoned that when we got half-way that would be the place to go overland. Presently I said, "This should be it. We put ashore straight ahead."

  I cut the engine and we drifted until the boat nosed the bank.

  "Keep your voice down," I said.

  "Robinson could very well be just on the other side of here."

  We went ashore and hauled out the inflatable.

  "We'll take a look across there before carrying the boat over. And keep | your head down." We walked over limestone rubble and then over an unused paved road, built for the traffic that had never come. On the other side of the road I dropped into a crouch and then on to my belly as I neared the edge of the next canal.

  I peered over the bank and everything was peaceful. A light breeze ruffled the surface of the water and there was no sign of Robinson's dory. I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye and looked to the left. In the middle distance was a half-constructed house, and a man was working on the roof. I returned my attention to the canal.

  "Okay. Let's bring up the boat."

  Billy looked back.

  "A long haul," he said.

  "Nearly two hundred yards."

  "We'll unship the engine," I said.

  "And the inflatable has carrying straps."

  It was hot and heavy work but we finally made the portage and were sitting in the boat with the engine resecured on the transom. I was about to start up when Billy said, "Listen!"

  Someone in the half-built house was using a hammer, but under the rhythmic knocking I heard the faraway growl of an outboard engine. It grew louder, and I said, "He's coming this way. Let's move it."

  I started the engine, hoping that Robinson would not hear it over the noise of his own, and we moved off. I kept the pace slow and, when we had gone about 200 yards and come to a junction, I killed the engine.

  Again we heard the sound of another outboard motor, this time distinctly louder. Billy was moving his head from side to side to locate the direction.

  "To the left," he said, and took out his gun.

  I restarted the engine and pushed over the tiller, and we moved to the left and towards the house in the distance. There was a bend ahead and I moved to the inside curve, still travelling slowly because I wanted to keep quiet. Over the sound of our own engine I heard the noise of another.

  "There he is," said Billy, and I saw the dory coming towards us on the other side of the canal on the outside of the bend. I twisted the throttle and the boat bucked at the sudden application of power. Then we were on to him and Billy was shooting, but so was Robinson. Even as Billy fired, a bullet impacted inboard close to my hand and again there was the hiss of escaping air. Robinson was too damn good with his shooting; he had fired but two shots and had hit us both times, and although I had told Billy the inflatable was com- partmemed Robinson had punctured two air chambers out of the five.

  Then he was past us and I slammed over the tiller, already feeling the difference in the behaviour of the boat; she was slow to come about and not as easily controlled. But Billy shouted, "He's stopped.

  I hit his engine. "

  I twisted and looked back. The dory was drifting into the bank and, as it touched, Robinson leapt ashore and began to run. He paused and snapped one shot at us before disappearing behind one of the heaps of grey limestone rubble, the spoil left from the dredging of the canal.

  "Let's get after him," urged Billy.

  I needed no urging. Already I was heading for the bank and standing, ready to jump. Our feet hit the ground simultaneously, and Billy said, "We'll tackle him from two sides." He gestured with his pistol.

  "You go that way and keep your head down." He ran in the other direction.

  I ran to the nearest heap of limestone and dropped flat before peering around it cautiously. There was no sign of Robinson. From behind I heard the sound of engines so I looked back to see the Customs launch coming up the canal, fairly boiling along at top speed. Deane must have heard the shots and decided to come in.

  I ignored it and turned again to look for Robinson. We were quite close to the house and there were now two men on the roof, and one of them was pointing at something. I followed the direction of his arm, got to my feet, and began to run. Skidding around another heap of rubble I came across Robinson about ten yards away. He had his back to me, and beyond him I saw Billy come into sight.

  I was late in the tackle. Before I could get to him Robinson fired and Billy dropped in his tracks. But then I was on to him and I had no mercy. His pistol went flying and it took Deane and two of his men to prise my hands from Robinson's neck.

  Deane hauled me to my feet and pushed me away, standing between me and Robinson.

  "That's enough!" he said curtly.

  I heard a car door slam and saw Perigord walking over from a police car near the house. I regained my breath, and said, "Then get the bastard out of my sight before I kill him." I turned and walked towards Billy.

  He was sitting up, his hand to his head, and when he took it away it was red with blood.

  "He creased me!" he said blankly. Jesus, but it hurts! " There was an unfocused look to his eyes, a sign of concussion. I stooped, picked up his gun, and walked to the water's edge and tossed it into the canal. Then I went back and helped him to his feet.

  "You're lucky you're not dead," I said.

  "Be glad it hurts; it means you'll live."

  Already he was looking better. He glanced across at Deane and saw Robinson still prostrate on the ground.

  "Well, we've got him."

  "Yes," I said shortly. Deane would not now need any excuse for holding Robinson. Any man who popped off a gun was automatically his prey including Billy. Still, Deane had not seen Billy shoot, so, as we walked towards him, I said, "I ditched your gun in the canal."

  "Thanks."

  Robinson sat up and Deane was addressing him in fast, fluent Spanish.

  Among the spate of words I heard the name Perez, repeated sever
al times. Robinson shook his head and replied in Spanish, and then switched into English, with the same plummy accent I had come to know in Texas.

  "I'm a soldier of the revolution," he said pompously.

  "And now a prisoner of war. I will answer no questions." He got to his feet.

  "Prisoner of war? " said Billy unbelievingly.

  "The guy's nuts!"

  "He's a bloody murderer," I said.

  "But that's for a court to decide, Mr. Mangan," said Perigord.

  Deane took out handcuffs and then paused, looking at Billy expressionlessly.

  "Search this man," he said.

  Billy grinned widely as Perigord's hands expertly patted his body.

  "What gun?" he said.

  "I took your advice. It was good."

  It was then that Robinson made his break. He thumped the nearest Customs officer in the gut, sending him to the ground writhing and retching, and took off, running towards the house. He took us all by surprise. Deane dropped the handcuffs and broke into a run, with me at his heels.

  The builders at the house had stopped work and were now all on the roof, a good vantage point to view the morning's unexpected entertainment. The sole exception was the driver of a truck which had just arrived. He had got out, leaving the door open and the engine idling, and was calling to the men on the roof. Robinson clouted him in passing and he staggered back to collide with Deane and they both went down in a tangle of arms and legs.

  By that time Robinson was in the cab and the engine of the truck roared. I leaped over the sprawled bodies of Deane and the driver and jumped for the cab, but it was too late and the truck was moving. I missed and fell to the ground. By the time I had picked myself up the truck was speeding up the road.

  I saw Perigord getting into his car so I ran and piled in next to him just as he drove off with a squeal of rubber and a lot of wheel spin.

  He drove with one hand while unhooking the microphone of his radio from its bracket. He began to give brief but precise instructions, and I gathered that he was re marshalling his forces.

  The truck was still in sight and we were gaining on it. It turned left on to East Sunrise Highway, and I said, "He'll be going on to Midshipman Road, by the Garden of the Groves."

  "Yes," said Perigord, and spoke into the microphone again.

  The Garden of the Groves is one of the more sedate of our tourist attractions, the name being a punning one because the loo-acre gardens are dedicated to the memory of Wallace Groves, the founder of Freeport. There were always tourists wandering about that area and the chances were that Robinson could kill someone, travelling at the speed he was.

  We sped down East Sunrise and turned on to Midshipman, and by then we were within fifty yards of the truck. A car shot out of a side road and hit the truck a glancing blow and Perigord braked hard as it crashed into a palm tree. I fumbled for the door handle as I saw Robinson jumo from the cab and un towards the Garden.

  Perigord was out before me, and h e did something surprising he threw his swagger stick at Robinson. It flew straight as an arrow and hit Robinson at the nape of the neck and he fell in a tumbled heap in the road.

  Perigord was about to go to him but jumped back as a big double-decker London bus came around the corner. The driver swerved to avoid the crashed truck and his brakes squealed, but it was too late. The bus brushed past Perigord but one wheel went over Robinson's head.

  Epilogue After the immediate discussion that followed that incident I did not see Perigord to talk with seriously for nearly a month. He was a very busy man, and so was Commissioner Deane over in Nassau. But he did telephone to tell me that the ampoules found on Carrasco-Perez proved to contain a culture ofZ,. pneumophila, enough to poison the water in every hotel in the Bahamas.

  On the occasion of the annual BASRA Swimming Marathon I invited him and his family back to the house for drinks. Both our daughters had been competitors and Karen, like Sue before her, had won a second prize in her class. Full of pride and ice-cream she cavorted in the pool with Ginnie Perigord, and there did not seem to be much difference between a tanned white hide and a natural brown hide.

  Debbie laughed and said to Amy Perigord, "Where do they get the energy? You wouldn't think they've just swum two miles. Would you like a drink?"

  "I'd rather have tea," said Mrs. Perigord.

  "I'm not really a drinker."

  "We won't bother Luke," said Debbie.

  "Come into the kitchen and chat while I make it."

  I smiled at Perigord as they went away. Because he had attended the Marathon in his official capacity he was in full fig, swagger stick and all. I said, "I propose something stronger. What will you have?"

  He sat down and laid his cap and swagger stick by the chair.

  "Some people think because I'm a black Bahamian that I exist on a liquid diet of rum, but I prefer scotch."

  I went to the poolside bar and held up a bottle of Glenlivet

  "This do?"

  He grinned.

  "That will do very well."

  I poured two drinks and put a bottle of iced water at his elbow. I said, "Billy Cunningham rang me this morning. He says he's growing a streak of whfte hair where that bullet grazed him. He thinks it makes him look distinguished."

  "Did he really lose that pistol in the water?" asked Perigord curiously.

  "I'll answer that by asking you a question," I said.

  "Would Deane really have framed the crew of Capistrano by planting cocaine?"

  Perigord smiled.

  "I see." He ignored the water and sipped the scotch.

  "Very good," he observed.

  "Now, tell me who was Robinson?"

  "We sent his fingerprints to the States and the Americans told us, but we could have found out ourselves once we began to dig. He was an Angle-Cuban, educated in England. His name was Rojas and he was Perez's brother-in-law."

  I contemplated that information which did not mean much to me.

  "So what happens now? Do we live in a permanent state of siege?"

  "I don't think so," said Perigord.

  "An attempt was made a covert attack on the Bahamas and it failed. We have investigated every unusual occurence since Rojas was killed and have found nothing to indicate that the attack is continuing. In my opinion, an opinion now shared by Commissioner Deane and the Government, the whole idea was conceived, planned and executed by Perez and Rojas. Probably Castro knew nothing about it."

  "You think not?"

  "I think it was rather like Henry II and Becket. You know the story?"

  "Henry said, " Who will rid me of this turbulent priest? " and the four knights went and slaughtered Becket in the cathedral."

  "Henry did penance for it afterwards," said Perigord.

  "I know Fidel Castro is no saint, but I don't think he'd stoop to what that pair did. He's too vulnerable himself. No, there's been bad blood between Cuba and the Bahamas ever since their jet planes shot up our fishery patrol vessel and killed four men, and matters haven't become any easier since. I think Castro wondered aloud how to solve the Bahamian question, and Perez and Rojas decided to take action."

  "So you now think we can live like reasonable human beings."

  "I would say so." He smiled.

  "But didn't someone say that eternal vigilance is the price of liberty. It has taught us a lesson from which we have benefited. At a cost."

  "I'm not going to relax the security measures in the hotels," I said.

  "Very wise. We also have instituted security measures; they are unobtrusive but they are there." He held up his hand.

  "Don't ask me what they are."

  I grinned at him.

  "I wouldn't dream of it." We sat in silence for a while and Perigord savoured his whisky. I said, "You know the funniest thing in the whole damn business?"

  "What?"

  "When you threw that swagger stick. You looked so damned silly, but it worked."

  "Ah, the swagger stick. Do you know the history of
this?"

  "No."

  "It's the lineal descendent of the ash plant carried by the Roman centurion over two thousand years ago. He used it to discipline his men, but then it became a staff of office. The line split quite early; one way led to the field marshal's baton, the other to the officer's cane. Catch!" He suddenly tossed it to me.

  I grabbed it out of the air and nearly dropped it because it was unexpectedly heavy. I had thought it to be merely a cane encased in leather, but this one was loaded with lead at both ends. Perigord said suavely, "Not only a staff of office but a weapon against crime. It has saved my life twice. "

  I returned the weapon against crime, and he said, "Amy confided in me this afternoon that your wife is expecting a baby. Is that so?"

  " Yes in about six months. "

  "I'm glad she wasn't permanently harmed by what happened in Texas. In view of what I know about your family history may I offer the hope that it will be a boy?"

  And six months later Karen had a brother

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