Precious Cargo

by Clyde W. Ford

  Sunlight flashed off a metallic object in the grass near the remains of Zoe Hardy’s cabin. It looked like the metal leader from someone’s lost fishing tackle. I walked over to it and pushed away a layer of finely broken shells with my foot. Then I reached down to pick up the remnants of a necklace. I cleared small strands of seaweed from the tiny silver links. The seaweed hid a small charm, which now dangled from the chain. I turned the charm over in my hand and squinted. A halo of light surrounded an image of the Virgin Mary’s hooded face, which bore a beatific smile.

  A cold shiver worked its way through my body. I’d seen this same image before, tattooed on the upper chest of the second woman that Raven and I had found underwater at Eagle Harbor. I tucked the necklace into my pocket next to the rifle shell.

  When I checked my watch I realized I needed to get back to the Noble Lady and down to Mount Vernon to prepare for tonight’s rendezvous with Alex.

  thirteen

  When I got back to my dinghy, I met CJ pushing her dinghy into the water.

  “Leaving home?” I asked.

  She laughed, then pointed out toward the water. “Going to town,” she said.

  “Friends?”

  “Supplies.”

  “It must get pretty lonely out here.”

  She sucked her teeth. “Lonely I can handle. Dating scene I can’t. Like men who. . . .” She shook her head. “Sorry, that’s more about my life than you probably care to know.”

  And apparently more than she cared to tell.

  CJ got into her dinghy and I pushed her off the beach. My dinghy floated in a rising tide. I pulled it to shore, untied the tether, and hopped in. Then I headed back to the Noble Lady.

  The course from Cypress Island to La Conner took me back up toward Bellingham Bay, then away from the bay toward Strawberry Island and Anacortes. A coast guard patrol boat hovered close to a large oil tanker that was lumbering away from the refinery docks at March Point. Past the point, I lined up between the red-and-green buoys marking the only safe route through narrow, shallow Swinomish Channel. The dredged channel flows like a swift river, and this afternoon it flowed with me, which made the cruise down to La Conner short.

  When I reached the marina, I executed a wide, sweeping turn to approach the dock heading upstream. I’d learned my lesson the hard way the first time Sharon and I had tried docking a boat at La Conner. That day, we had come in with the current and nearly wiped out the back end of an expensive motoryacht. Today I worked against the ebb, which gently pushed the Noble Lady toward the dock. With the engine in forward at its lowest speed, I made just enough headway against the current to hold the Noble Lady in place against the dock.

  Another boater stood on the dock, waiting to catch my lines. I pushed the pilothouse door open, stepped out on deck, and tossed him a midship line, which he whipped around a cleat. Then I shut the engine down and stepped off to tie the other lines.

  With the Noble Lady secure, I called a motel near Mount Vernon whose sign along the freeway I remembered because of its slogan, Sweet Suites for Tired Travelers. A pleasant man answered my call.

  “I need two adjoining suites, one for myself and one for my assistant, Mr. Edward Barnes. My name is Campbell. George Campbell. We’ll be staying for only one night.”

  “Mr. Campbell, you can take room 209; Mr. Barnes, room 207,” the attendant said.

  I gave the man my credit card number. Afterward, I called Raven.

  “Meet me at the marina in La Conner about seven.”

  “Armed?”

  “Armed.”

  I also called Maria Delarosa.

  “The Executive Motel, just off I-5 in Mount Vernon. Room 207 at nine.”

  “Do you need me to bring anything for this young woman?”

  “A change of clothes.”

  “Did you happen to get her size?”

  “Eighteen- to twenty-year-old, medium.”

  “Medium? A lot of help that does. You’re an investigator. Aren’t investigators supposed to be observant?”

  “Maritime investigations. Maritime security. Women’s dress sizes still remain a mystery to me.”

  Maria chuckled. “I’ll figure something out.”

  Finally, I took Frank Abadi’s card from my wallet and called the cell phone number on it.

  “The Executive Motel in Mount Vernon. Room 209 at ten o’clock,” I said.

  “A man will knock on the door, and you will pay him one hundred dollars. Then he will send Alex to your room. When he picks her up in the morning you will pay him one thousand dollars. Any questions?”

  “No.”

  “One more thing. The guy who’s delivering Alex has simple instructions: No money, no girl. Anything seems funny, he does whatever it takes to collect what you owe me. That understood?”

  “Clear. Nice doing business with you.”

  “Nice? Alex is nice. Business is business.” He hung up.

  I took a shower and changed into fresh clothes. Raven picked me up in La Conner at seven. We discussed the evening’s plans over dinner at a restaurant on the main street, which overlooks the channel. At eight thirty, we left for the Executive Motel.

  I picked up the card keys from the front desk and handed the one for room 207 to Raven. The front windows of both rooms faced the motel’s main parking lot. When I opened room 209 it smelled like freshly made linen, which made me wonder if motels, like large bakeries, have a spray they use to trick the senses of their guests. I knocked on the metal door to the adjoining room. Raven knocked back. I turned the latch on my side. He turned the one on his. We both opened our doors and—voilà!—we stood facing each other.

  “I’ll wait here for Maria to arrive?” Raven asked.

  “Yes. Turn the television up and keep your conversation down.”

  “You’ll knock when you’re ready?”

  “Three times.”

  “Think we can pull this off?” Raven asked.

  “What do you think?”

  Raven patted the bulge beneath his armpit. “We’ve got one helluva backup plan.”

  I smiled, then swung the door closed and locked it. Raven did the same.

  I checked that I’d chambered a round before slipping my pistol into a drawer of the television stand. Then I kicked off my shoes, turned on the radio, and fiddled with the dial until I found a classical station. Violins, a viola, and a cello lamented, playing long, foreboding passages in a minor key. I didn’t recognize the piece. When it finished, the program’s host named the last several selections that she’d played. I’d listened to the String Quartet No. 14 in D Minor by Franz Schubert, written near the end of the composer’s life.

  At nine o’clock, someone knocked on Raven’s door. I heard him usher Maria in and explain our plan to her.

  At five minutes to ten, I pulled back an edge of the curtain. A layer of clouds now covered the stars. In the parking lot, a black Lexus came to a stop. A man exited from the passenger door, which probably meant that Abadi had a backup plan as well—more muscle. Soon the man knocked on the room door. My throat tightened. I undid the chain and swung the door open. I recognized the heavyset man as one of the bouncers who had escorted the rowdy customer from the Tulip Patch. A whiff of cigarette smoke and alcohol came off the man. He held out his hand.

  “One hundred dollars.”

  I plucked a wad of bills from my shirt pocket and thumbed off five twenties, which I handed to him. He smiled fiendishly. “Alex’ll be right up. Sweet dreams. I’ll see you at six in the morning.”

  I turned the music down. High heels clicked on the stone steps leading up to the second floor. Alex tapped lightly on my door. When I opened it, I sucked in a breath. She wore a tight black strapless dress, with a black and red silk shawl wrapped around her shoulders. She’d rolled her hair into a bun, which she supported with a large wooden comb. Her lips glowed with ruby lipstick. Silver pendants hung from her earlobes. Alex looked every bit a saucy Mexican dancer, and not a hooker working for a small-time hustler
like Frank Abadi. In fact, she reminded me of photographs of a young Frida Kahlo.

  She smiled and brushed her hand down the side of her dress. “The señor is pleased?”

  “The señor is very pleased,” I said.

  She stepped into my room and closed the door behind her. I checked out the window. The black Lexus sat in the parking lot with its lights off. Alex sat in a chair next to the desk, with her legs crossed. Her gaze darted around the room. I pulled the drapes tight and dimmed the room lights. Then I knocked three times on the adjacent door. Raven knocked back. We both undid the door latches and swung our doors open.

  I beckoned with my hand toward Alex. “Señorita, por favor, please come with me.”

  Maria Delarosa stuck her head into my room. She spoke in rapid-fire Spanish to Alex and waved her forward. Alex’s eyes grew big. She looked between Maria and me. Then she looked at the door. She said something to Maria. Maria spoke to me.

  “She’s scared that Mr. Abadi’s men will come to harm her,” Maria said.

  “Tell her that I will not let that happen. That we’re here to take her away from Mr. Abadi for good.”

  The two women conversed in Spanish.

  “She said that Mr. Abadi told her if she did not appear at six o’clock in the morning he would hold her parents responsible and expect them to pay all the money owed for transporting her out of Mexico. If they cannot pay, Mr. Abadi will send his men to harm her parents.”

  “Can you find out her real name and where her parents are?”

  “Probably,” Maria said. “But I need some time. Let me try to get her into this room first.”

  “Tell her that I will not let anything happen to her parents,” I said.

  Maria spoke to Alex again and reached a hand out for her. Alex pulled away. Maria stepped forward and placed an arm around Alex’s shoulder, then whispered in her ear. Alex began to cry. Maria helped her up from the chair. I pulled my gun from the nightstand drawer and accompanied the women into room 207. Raven quickly swapped rooms with me, and we locked both doors.

  I stood with my back against the door adjoining room 209. “What did you tell her?” I asked Maria.

  “That she is too young and too beautiful to sell her body for the likes of any man.”

  I nodded. “Take her into the bedroom, and please don’t make any noise. Turn on the television if she continues to cry.”

  Alex sobbed on Maria’s shoulder as Maria shepherded her into the bedroom. I picked up the telephone and called Raven in room 209.

  “Show time,” I said. “The men are in a black Lexus.”

  I hung up and placed my ear to the door as Raven made a call to 911.

  “My name is George Campbell. I’m at the Executive Motel in Mount Vernon,” he said to the 911 operator. “Two men have been acting suspiciously outside the motel. I don’t believe they’re guests, but they’ve prowled the rooms and now they’re sitting in a car outside. . . . Yes. . . . I’m in room 209. . . . Wait a minute. . . . They’re in a black Lexus down in the parking lot in front of my room. . . . Thank you. . . . Yes, I started to go to bed but I couldn’t sleep so I called. . . . Yes, please have the police knock on my door.”

  Raven hung up. The telephone in room 207 rang. I picked it up.

  “You get an Oscar,” I said.

  “It’s not over yet,” Raven said.

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  I hung up.

  Five minutes later, a red light pulsed in the parking lot. I peered out the window. A police officer shined a light in the Lexus and asked both men to step out. They pointed up to room 209. One officer stayed with the men, while the other officer hiked the stairs to Raven’s room. He knocked on the door and Raven opened it.

  “Mr. Campbell, may I have permission to search this suite?”

  “Why?”

  “Both men said they believed a woman was being held against her wishes in this room. They said they were investigating the matter for the woman’s family.”

  Raven went ballistic. “What? Bullshit. I’m here on business from Seattle. There’s no one in this suite except me.”

  “Please, Sir, it would help greatly if you would agree to let me search the room.”

  “Damn. I can’t believe this, when I’m the one who made the call. . . . All right, but please make it quick.”

  “Thank you, Sir. This won’t take a minute.”

  The police officer entered Raven’s room and the door slammed behind him. Closet doors opened and shut, as did the bedroom and bathroom doors. A few minutes later, the officer radioed his partner.

  “Sam, they’re bullshitting us. Room’s clean. No one’s here other than Mr. Campbell. I say we take them into the station and question them further. . . . Right. . . . I’m coming down now.”

  Next the officer spoke to Raven. “Mr. Campbell, thank you. I’m sorry to have intruded on your privacy. Have a restful night. I won’t need anything further. We’ll be taking these men with us and they won’t bother you again.”

  I watched as the police car pulled away with both of Frank Abadi’s men. Raven knocked on the door between us. We unlocked the doors and he stepped in. I opened the bedroom door. Tearstains smeared Alex’s makeup. She sat on the edge of the bed. Maria knelt before her, holding her hand, whispering in Spanish.

  “Time to go,” I said to Maria.

  She stood and helped Alex up from the bed. Alex stared at me with swollen, red eyes. She shook her head and then turned to utter something in Spanish to Maria.

  “She says she does not know whether to bless you or to curse you,” Maria said to me.

  “Tell her I’m not sure either.”

  Maria conveyed the message to Alex, who managed a weak smile.

  “Can you stay with Alex tonight?” I asked Maria.

  She turned to Alex and patted her hand. “Of course.”

  “Then take her in your car. Follow Raven and me to my boat at the La Conner Marina.”

  I heard Raven’s footsteps outside the rooms. I peeked my head back inside 209 to make sure we hadn’t left anything there. Raven stepped back into 209 as well, holding his pistol. It looked like a lightweight Glock.

  “No one’s around. Time to go now,” Raven said.

  He took the lead, and I brought up the rear. We ushered the women down the steps to Maria’s car. Then Raven and I slipped into his car, and we headed to the La Conner Marina. When we got to the marina, I stepped from Raven’s car and walked toward Maria’s. Raven called out.

  “Noble.”

  I turned around. He drove closer.

  Through his open window, he said, “She’s a beautiful girl.”

  “She is.”

  “We’re not letting her wind up at the bottom of Eagle Harbor.”

  “We ’re not.”

  He pointed to me. “You did a good thing back there.”

  I pointed to him then to myself. “We did a good thing back there.”

  “Your plan.”

  “Your acting.”

  “We pulled it off.”

  “We did.”

  Raven rolled up his window and sped away. I escorted Maria and Alex to the boat.

  Inside the Noble Lady, I turned down the sheets on my bed in the master stateroom.

  “Alex can sleep here,” I said. “Maria, there’s a smaller berth at the bow for you.”

  Alex shook her head vigorously. “No, señora, por favor.” She patted the bed.

  “I’ll sleep with her,” Maria said.

  With the women settled, I checked the Noble Lady’s vitals. After the engine warmed up, I cast off the dock lines and headed us out into the dark waters of Swinomish Channel. On a clear day, I’d cruise from La Conner to Bellingham without using radar or GPS. But on an overcast night like tonight, I brought up radar, GPS, and my navigational computer.

  With the blue vessel icon lined up to follow a dashed yellow line on the computer screen, I hit the autopilot button and scanned the darkness for the green and red lights of
other boats.

  When Prometheus stole fire, he raced from angry gods who eventually caught him. Zeus chained him to a rock, where an eagle daily ate out his liver only for it to grow back and be eaten the next day. Stealing light from darkness is how I’d describe taking Alex away from Abadi. And while Abadi bore no resemblance to Zeus, I was sure he’d relish the opportunity to mete out Prometheus’s punishment to me.

  We’d just passed Strawberry Island when I heard someone climbing up the pilothouse steps. Maria sat down on the bench behind the helm. She said nothing for several minutes.

  “The soft instrument lights. The glow from the computer screen. The darkness outside. It feels like a sanctuary in here,” Maria said.

  “Sometimes it is.”

  “That darling girl is sleeping. She’s been so traumatized by her experience since leaving Mexico that she’s afraid to trust anyone. But she did tell me as she drifted off that her name is not Alex. It’s Eliana. Eliana Morales. She said she doesn’t know where her parents work, but she believes it’s somewhere in Skagit Valley. She’s right, you know.”

  “About what?”

  “Freeing her is as much a curse as it is a blessing. They’ll come after her family as a way of exacting their revenge for her escape.”

  “Can you find them?”

  “Her family?”

  “Yes. Can you find out where they stay?”

  “I think so.”

  My fingers fumbled along the top of the instrument panel until they found their way over the small links of the broken silver chain I had found at Smuggler’s Cove. I stepped away from the helm briefly and switched on a light above Maria’s head. I handed the necklace to her.

  “Do you know what this is?” I asked.

  She turned it over in her hand once. “Where did you get this?”

  “On a beach on the other side of Cypress Island from where the three young women were found. It’s a necklace of some sort.”

  “No,” Maria said. “Not a necklace. It’s an ankle bracelet. Probably a present to mark a young girl’s First Communion.”