Sailor's Delight

by Charles Dougherty

  "Are you in the kind of business where having control over you would be worth somebody using Julia to influence your actions?"

  "No. I'm in wholesale distribution — industrial supplies."

  "No disgruntled employees, union problems, anything like that?"

  "No, nothing."

  "Okay," Paul said. "I'd like to get moving on a couple of things. Connie can help me with some phone calls. You'll still want to go make that police report in the morning, but I'd suggest you and Monica take the dinghy ashore and get some dinner somewhere while we get to work. Give us a couple of hours, if you can."

  "I'd like to help," Luke said.

  "I know, and I'm going to need all the help you can give me, but right now, time's critical and I need to make some things happen. I'll explain it all when you get back, okay?"

  Luke nodded. "Fair enough." He pulled the dinghy alongside and helped Monica step down into it.

  "Hey, Luke?" Paul called.

  "Yes?" Luke stood in the dinghy, holding onto Diamantista.

  "You have your cell phone with you?"

  "Yes," Luke said.

  "Keep it on. Julia knows the number, right?"

  "Of course."

  "Good. Let me know if you hear from her. Or from the others."

  Luke clenched his teeth and nodded as he turned to start the outboard.

  "Do you really think they kidnapped her for ransom?" Connie asked, once the Regans were out of earshot.

  "Can't rule it out."

  "It seems unlikely," Connie said. "Isn't it more likely that they, um ... "

  "Yes."

  "Then why did you ... "

  "Because," Paul interrupted, "Ransom is a scenario that gives them hope. It implies that they can pay, and they'll get her back unharmed. I want to keep their minds off the other possibilities as long as I can. Now, I was serious about needing your help and being in a hurry."

  "Okay. What do you want?"

  "I'm going to call Phillip Davis; his wife's a senior customs officer in Martinique, remember?"

  "Yes, of course. Sandrine, but ... "

  "I'm betting she can find out if Sueño cleared out of St. Vincent. Maybe even online, somehow."

  "Okay."

  "Mrs. Walker must have some connections here, as long as she and her husband have lived here. I want you to call her and ask for some help while I talk with Phillip and Sandrine."

  "No problem. Dani said Mrs. Walker knows everybody. She still helps Dani's father sometimes, since her husband died. What are you looking for?"

  "Ask her to call the dive operators and see if Joey and Harry booked that snorkel tour, first."

  "Okay. And second?"

  "See if she can get any information out of the customs and immigration people this evening, in case Sandrine strikes out. Clearance, passport numbers, anything at all."

  "Okay."

  Paul picked up the satellite phone and began dialing as Connie turned on his U.S. cell phone. They didn't normally use it, because of the high international roaming charges, but tonight, the cost didn't matter.

  15

  A few minutes later, Connie was finished with her call to Mrs. Walker. She listened as Paul, speaking softly, finished his call. "That didn't sound like you were talking to Sandrine or Phillip," she said.

  "No. I called them first. That was my old partner in Miami. What did Mrs. Walker have to say?"

  "She'll call back in a bit. One of her childhood friends has a son who's the senior officer in the customs office here."

  "Great. Sandrine wasn't hopeful about finding anything on line; apparently the on-line clearance system depends on somebody here typing in the data. She'll give it a try, but she figured it might be tomorrow before she could get an answer unless we get lucky."

  "Why'd you call your old partner?"

  "I asked him to run the names to see if either one turns up with a record or outstanding warrants. We'd have better luck with passport info or birth dates, but I figured it was worth a shot."

  "What else can we do?"

  "Well, Phillip's going to call Sharktooth and one of his other contacts — some guy in Martinique that he's used before."

  "Used for what? What exactly are you planning, Paul?"

  "I'm not planning anything yet; I'm gathering information. As soon as I have a clue as to where they're going, I'll make arrangements to have them intercepted."

  Connie frowned and shook her head.

  "What's wrong?" Paul asked.

  "You don't seem like yourself, I guess. You've gone cold and quiet — not the Paul I know."

  "Yeah, I take your point. This is still me; it's just me at work."

  "You're holding everything in; I don't feel like you're ... I don't know ... "

  Paul held her gaze across the table for a moment.

  "Paul, you looked at me just then like, ... um ... "

  "I'm sorry Connie. It's just that you reminded me of ... no, I'm not going to ... "

  "What? Don't shut me out, please."

  "I'll try not to. Remember, this is what I did for 25 years. I can't help falling into my old habits. I draw into myself when I'm working a case; it's just the way I am. It doesn't have anything to do with you, or us."

  "But I want to help," Connie protested. "I like it when we're a team; I don't like it when I feel cut off from you."

  "Okay. I'll try to do better. The quicker we can find her, the less chance something bad will happen to her. That's my whole focus right now."

  "What can I do?"

  "Honestly, the thing I need most is for you to keep the Regans out of my hair. I've run kidnapping cases before, but not when I was living with the victim's parents."

  "Was that why you sent them to the local police?"

  "Partly. It would be crazy not to involve the locals, though."

  "But you said they weren't ... "

  "And I meant it. They aren't equipped for this kind of thing, but they could be a serious impediment if we crossed them, so ... " Paul paused, his head cocked to the side.

  "What's wrong?" Connie asked.

  "Dinghy's coming. The Regans will be here in a minute."

  "I'll go up on deck, then," Connie said, as the cell phone rang.

  "Okay. Tell them as much as you can. I'll get that. Does Mrs. ... "

  "I told her to talk to you if you answered instead of me — that we were both up to our eyeballs in this."

  "Good," Paul said, pressing the connect button and raising the phone to his ear.

  Paul disconnected the call and scribbled some notes on the pad in front of him. He was careful to flip it shut and slip it into his pocket when he was finished. He didn't want anyone, particularly Luke or Monica, reading over his shoulder. He could hear the murmur of Connie's voice from the cockpit as she told the Regans what they had done so far. Because there was so little to tell them at this stage, he was happy to have Connie as a buffer. His heart went out to Luke and Monica, but he knew that they would be a distraction to him if he allowed it, and the best chance for Julia was for him to shut out everything except getting her back safe and unharmed. An added benefit to having Connie in the go-between role was that it would keep her occupied, as well.

  He clamped his jaws shut and shook his head at the thought of her. Something was wrong between them; he had sensed it as soon as she greeted him upon his return from Miami a few days ago. He'd never had the kind of emotional connection with anyone else that he had with Connie, and from what she had told him, she felt the same way about him. There was something bothering her, though, and whatever it was, she wasn't comfortable talking about it with him. Her reticence disturbed him in a way that was unfamiliar; it was almost physically painful to him that she couldn't let him share whatever burden she felt.

  He realized that he had seized on the problem of recovering Julia as a way to keep from thinking about this problem in his relationship — he hated that word in this context, but there it was — with Connie. And now she felt shut out; he knew
she was justified in feeling excluded. He shuddered at how close he'd come to telling her that she reminded him of his ex-wife when she confronted him a few minutes ago.

  Their easy companionship was something he'd never experienced in his first marriage, but her complaint about him withdrawing into his cop persona was all too familiar. He couldn't let that happen; what he and Connie had was too dear to both of them. But he'd seen enough cases in his time on the force to know that the danger was real. Saving Julia would go a long way toward smoothing things over, but he also knew that if he failed Julia, the chances of him and Connie returning to their previous state were slim.

  His thoughts were interrupted as the phone rang again. Glancing at the caller i.d. screen, he saw that it was his old partner. He extracted the notebook from his pocket and flipped it open as he pressed the green button on the phone's screen.

  "That was quick," he said. He listened for a moment and scribbled a few notes.

  "That's them," Paul said. "I just got their passport info. Dates of birth match." He listened again, making notes. "No, that'll do for now," he said, in response to the offer of further help. "I'll definitely call if I do. Thanks, bro. I gotta get moving."

  As he disconnected the call, Connie and the Regans were coming down the companionway ladder.

  "Connie's filled us in, Paul," Luke said. "Guess it's too early for any news."

  "Actually, there is a little. Connie's local friend, Mrs. Walker, called back just as you were arriving. There's no record of Sueño leaving the country, but that's not really conclusive. She did manage to get passport numbers for Troy Stevens and Linton Goff, though, from their entrance paperwork."

  "So they weren't who they said they were," Luke said.

  "No, they weren't. Typical crooks, though — not overly bright. They forgot about the boat name," Paul said. He studied Luke for a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He shifted his eyes to Monica and took in the worried look on her face. "Mrs. Walker also talked to all the dive shops; there was no booking for Joey and Harry, or for Troy and Linton. But that's no big surprise at this point."

  "We heard the phone ring just before we came down," Connie said.

  "My old partner from Miami. I called him earlier on the off chance that he might be able to find something on Joey Simpson and Harry Golden. He did, amazingly enough. Those are aliases, but these idiots have used them so many times they show up on their rap sheets. By the time he called back, Mrs. Walker had their real names from Immigration."

  "They've got police records?" Luke's voice rose in alarm.

  "Yes. Have a seat, both of you."

  "It's bad news?" Luke asked, sliding his legs under the table in the main cabin, his shoulders sagging as he sat.

  Paul shrugged. "It could be worse, Luke," he said as Monica took the seat across from Luke and reached out to grip his clenched fist between her hands.

  "They're small-time crooks. Theft, armed robbery, blackmail, dealing drugs — small quantities. The plus is that neither has a record of violent crime — no crimes against persons."

  Luke nodded soberly, reading Paul's hidden meaning.

  "They're not related to one another. They were cellmates at Raiford — that's Florida's state pen. And the other thing — Troy Stevens is 21 years old."

  "Damn! He looks a lot younger. I figured 17, maybe," Luke said.

  "Yeah, me, too. He traded on that. He got busted several times for prostitution," Paul said.

  "What?!" Luke said, upset. "You mean, he's a pimp?"

  "No, Luke. He worked as a male prostitute. He had an accomplice that would take pictures of him with older women — men, too, sometimes. Then they'd blackmail his clients."

  "Jesus," Luke said shaking his head. He put his elbows on the table and rested his face in his palms for a moment.

  "But why would they decide to kidnap Julia," Monica asked.

  "We can't know that, for sure," Paul said, "but there's probably money involved, given their records."

  "So, what happens now?" Luke asked, looking up at them from bleary eyes.

  "We'll know by morning if they officially left the country. If they did, they will have listed a next port of call, and we'll have them picked up."

  "What if they didn't check out with the authorities, then how — " Luke started to ask, before Paul interrupted him.

  "We'll employ other ways of finding them, in case they lied about their destination or didn't bother to clear out, but they all involve visual means, so we can't do much until daylight."

  "How can you get people to look for them?" Luke asked.

  "We have a friend in Martinique with some unusual connections," Paul said. "Let's just say we do favors for each other from time to time."

  "Are we going to find her?" Luke asked, swallowing hard. "Shouldn't we get, like, the FBI or somebody involved?"

  "Absolutely, you should. That's why you still need to go file that police report in the morning. That's the way to make things happen officially. And we're going to do our best to find her before they even start looking, okay?"

  "Okay. Thanks," Luke said.

  After a brief period of silence, Paul said, "It's late, and there's not anything else we can do tonight. Tomorrow's going to be a very busy day, so I suggest we all get some rest. If anybody wants a nightcap, help yourself. And keep the faith." With that, he stood and walked back to the stateroom that he and Connie shared.

  Connie lay in bed listening to the rhythm of Paul's breathing, astonished that he could fall asleep so quickly. She had been a minute or two behind him coming to bed and had found him almost asleep. She reflected on their brief conversation, her mind racing.

  "You awake?" she'd asked, sure that he was.

  "Mm-hmm, almost."

  "How can you go to sleep so easily with — "

  "Years of practice," he had said, interrupting her. "Sleep's a weapon; can't think if you're dead on your feet. Gotta grab it when you can." He had rolled over to look at her.

  "Did you get anything more? That you didn't tell them?"

  "Not really, but Phillip and I both figure the odds are they're headed north, so he's called Sharktooth."

  "Why Sharktooth?"

  "We're thinking 24 hours, 150 nautical miles. Puts them close to Dominica by daylight. Phillip's headed for Dominica. They're going to take Sharktooth's Cigarette boat and work their way south as soon as there's enough light for them to pick out boats on the horizon."

  "Why didn't you tell the Regans?"

  "It's a long shot. No point in getting their hopes up just to discover that they cleared out for Grenada or Trinidad."

  "What makes you think they went north?"

  "Just a hunch," Paul had said. Then he rolled back over and fell sound asleep in seconds.

  Connie was disappointed that their conversation had been cut short; she was feeling closer to Paul than she had since she'd found the thong. She'd had a good talk with Mrs. Walker earlier, before Paul had come into the little restaurant. She hadn't mentioned her doubts about Paul, but the older woman had commented that she was glad Connie had a man in her life. Connie had forced a smile, shrugging her shoulders. "I guess," she had said.

  Mrs. Walker had put a hand gently on Connie's arm. "He's a good man, Connie. Phillip and Mario both said so."

  "Mario?" Connie asked.

  "Espinosa. Dani's godfather. He's from Miami; he's been Paul's friend for a long time."

  "Oh, right. I've heard of him, but I didn't know — "

  "We go back a long way. Mario was in business with my husband and Dani's father, years before any of you were even born."

  "I see," Connie had said.

  "Things don't always go smoothly with men like them," she said, patting Connie's hand. "They can't always express their feelings with us."

  "Sometimes I think I don't know him at all."

  "Yes. A person never really knows another person's mind, and sometimes when things happen that make you see that, it can be hard."

&n
bsp; Connie looked at Mrs. Walker, blinking back tears. "But when we're together, just the two of us, it's like there's nobody else in the world."

  "And that's when you really know him, child. You hold on to that, and let the other go."

  Connie was thinking about that as she drifted into an easy sleep.

  16

  "You should have told them about Phillip and Sharktooth, Paul," Connie said.

  The Regans had taken the dinghy and gone ashore to make a police report on Julia's disappearance.

  "I thought we had this conversation last night," Paul said. "I don't want to raise false hope. Besides, they can't tell the police what they don't know."

  "I don't understand," Connie said, frowning. "What is it that you don't want them to tell the police?"

  "If the police know that Phillip and Sharktooth are looking for them, it limits their options."

  "Whose options?"

  "Phillip's and Sharktooth's. Let's say the Regans tell the police they're out trying to rescue Julia, okay?"

  "Okay, so how does that limit their options?"

  "Right now, what happens to Goff and Stevens is up to Phillip and Sharktooth. If the police know they're involved, their hands are tied in terms of how they can handle those two."

  "But if they save Julia — "

  "Connie, we don't know what they'll find. Suppose they catch Goff and Stevens, but there's no sign of Julia?"

  "Sharktooth could make them talk. I've seen him in — "

  "He wouldn't have much freedom of action if the police were looking over his shoulder, Connie."

  "The Regans deserve to know. The police would overlook — "

  "Connie, I was a cop for 25 years. Sometimes, there are limits to what a cop can overlook. What the Regans deserve is my best effort; I have to follow my judgment."

  "Your best effort! Your judgment! I'm part of this, and so are they. I didn't hear us vote to put you in charge." Connie whirled and stalked to the foredeck, her fists clenched at her sides.

  Paul watched her walk away, feeling a pain that he could hardly bear at what was happening to them. Part of him wanted to prostrate himself at her feet and beg for her forgiveness. On a rational level, though, he knew his duty was to use his skills and experience to save Julia. Everything else was secondary, no matter how much it hurt him and Connie.