Someone to Watch Over Me

by Ace Atkins

  “Does this theoretical person have a passport?”

  “She may,” I said. “But she may have to leave in a hurry.”

  “I don’t see that being a problem.”

  “And there might be others with her.”

  “How many?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you know?”

  “That when she returns home, she’ll have a wild story to tell.”

  “She a kid?”

  “Fifteen.”

  Epstein let out a lot of air.

  “International travel with a minor for sexual purposes?” Epstein said. “Yeah. I’d be interested in hearing her story. Will you be flying back through Miami?”

  “I can.”

  “See that you do.”

  55

  Hawk and I drove to the southern tip of Cat Island early that evening, the windows down in the aging rental, pulsing electric dance music on the radio. Hawk seemed to be enjoying it, tapping out the rhythm on the steering wheel.

  “Whatever happened to the Montagu Three?” I said.

  “Coconut water with rum, tastes like candy.”

  “Makes you feel so dandy.”

  The single-lane road curved and twisted along the beach, the palm and coconut trees whizzing past the windows. The little houses along the beach were bright blues, yellows, and greens. The sand blinding white in the late-afternoon sun, the ocean going from a sky blue to a deep navy. Cat Island sure beat summering in Chelsea.

  “What a horrible place to spend time.”

  “Good place to shake loose those cobwebs,” Hawk said.

  “You want to tell me where we’re headed?” I said. “Or just taking in the sights?”

  “Godfrey brought in a woman works for Steiner,” Hawk said.

  “How recently?”

  “Today too soon?”

  “Today works.”

  We made our way down to the same marina where we’d left that morning. I followed Hawk across a crushed-shell lot and up to a bright yellow clapboard building on stilts. He knocked on the door and Rex answered, ushering us inside.

  Godfrey sat at a small table playing dominoes with a woman wearing a blue utility dress. She was of a plus size, with thick arms and thighs. Her face was broad and pleasant, and she made jokes with Godfrey as she carefully placed her domino against the pattern on the table. She had a large rose tattoo on her left arm and wore a golden chain with a cross around her neck.

  “Sit,” Godfrey said. “We’re about done here.”

  “Not so fast,” the woman said. “Godfrey boy.” She had a big, infectious laugh.

  I took a seat in a metal-and-vinyl chair like you’d find in a motel conference room. Hawk stood by the door, watching the game being played and checking the window that looked out onto the small marina. The walls were cheap wood paneling, buckling from the studs, tacked with fishing charts, islands maps, and posters from past marlin tournaments. It was the kind of place that would’ve made Papa proud.

  Rex kept a small cluttered desk opposite Godfrey and the woman. His metal desk overflowed with empty cups, foam plates, and an old fan rotating back and forth. He hunched over a laptop computer, typing with massive index fingers.

  Rex looked like he could deadlift two-fifty using only his pinkies.

  “Don’t you ever count me out, Mr. Godfrey,” the woman said. She laughed more.

  Godfrey pushed his dominoes into the center pile and shook his head.

  “Too much, Shona,” he said. “Too much for me.”

  Godfrey looked over to me and Hawk and ushered us closer to the table. I brought the chair with me. Hawk stood while Godfrey introduced us to Shona.

  “I don’t want no trouble,” she said.

  “For your trouble,” Godfrey said, passing along a thick wad of bills across the table.

  I reached for my wallet, but Godfrey held up his hand and shook me off. I looked over to Hawk and he nodded.

  “You were there today?” I said.

  “Yes, sir,” she said. “I work four days on Bonnet’s Cut and two days off. I cook, I clean, I take care of the island business.”

  “Mr. Steiner is on the island now?” I said.

  She nodded. “Arrived two days ago,” she said. “With Miss Palmer. They’re planning a party for the weekend. VIPs, we’re told. Flying into Nassau.”

  I grabbed my phone and showed her a photo of Carly Ly.

  “Yes,” she said. “She’s there. With five other young ladies. Special guests of Mr. Peter who perform special duties for the VIPs.”

  Shona appeared to have lots of distaste for those special duties. She shook her head and closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath.

  “And what are those duties, Shona?” Hawk said.

  “We are not permitted to say,” Shona said. “It’s in our agreement with Mr. Peter. But I can say, what else would an old man want of women so young? Yes, I have seen things. Things that I wish I could wash from my mind. Where are these girls’ parents? Why would they come to such a place and be able to stay so long? Many don’t speak English. But this girl, the one you showed me, is American.”

  “She’s from Boston,” Hawk said. “Needs to get back to Boston.”

  “Are you going to hurt Mr. Peter?” Shona said. “Whatever his personal tastes, he is good to us. I’m paid and treated well. Not like Miss Palmer. I think she enjoys screaming at the staff. Throwing things. I saw her once slap a guard for moving too slowly on the dock.”

  “What happens to Mr. Peter is up to Mr. Peter,” I said. “How many guards?”

  “Five,” Shona said. “Plus a new man. A white man who works very closely with Mr. Peter.”

  “Does he have gray hair and wear gray clothes?” I said. “Goes by the name Ruger.”

  “The man I’m speaking of is called Mr. Grey.”

  “Cute,” Hawk said.

  “As a button,” I said.

  “He arrived with Mr. Peter and Miss Palmer,” Shona said. “He has a cold face, as if it’s never seen the sun.”

  “What about the staff?” I said.

  “Eight,” she said. “Many more on Friday to set up for the weekend party.”

  Godfrey walked over to Rex’s cluttered desk and found a yellow legal pad. He swept away the dominoes and set it in front of Shona. “Draw us the rooms in the main house,” he said. “Show us where this man Steiner eats, sleeps, and stays. And this Gray Man, too.”

  “He carries a gun,” she said. “All the guards have guns. They speak as if someone might be coming.”

  “And they’d be right,” Hawk said.

  Godfrey looked to us over the table as Shona began to sketch off squares with notes on the legal pad. He reached into his pocket for more cash and set it in front of her. “Take off the next few nights,” he said. “You have a cold. You got hurt. A family member is sick.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said. “You’ll be coming to the party?”

  “Always enjoy me a good party,” Hawk said.

  Godfrey walked out the front door. Hawk and I followed. Godfrey picked up a half-burned cigar and lit it again. The sun was going down over the marina, twenty or more fishing boats and pleasure boats huddling into their narrow slots. Godfrey blew smoke in the wind. The sun big and shimmering over the ocean and Bonnet’s Cut, forty miles away.

  “When?” Godfrey said.

  Hawk looked to me. I nodded back.

  “Can you be ready to go after midnight?” Hawk said.

  Godfrey nodded. They pounded fists.

  We walked down the steps and back to the rental. The skies were darkening with a slate-black line of clouds approaching from the south. Hawk shielded his eyes with the flats of his hands.

  “Hmm,” Hawk said. “Red skies this morning.”

  “Remind me
to skip dinner.”

  56

  It didn’t start to rain until we got halfway to Bonnet’s Cut. I again contemplated the subtleness of the sea and how its most dreaded creatures glide under the water. My stomach undulating along with my thoughts.

  “You take those pills?” Hawk said.

  “Two.”

  “Don’t throw up on my shoes,” Hawk said. “I like these shoes.”

  He was dressed in black military pants and a black T-shirt. Rain beaded off the top of his bald head. He had the .50-cal Magnum strapped over one shoulder, the gun tightly wrapped in a garbage bag with string.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” I said.

  Hawk and Godfrey inflated a small dinghy with an air pump. Rex would drop us as close as possible to the jetty and then Godfrey on the opposite side. Godfrey would swim his way onto the beach.

  As Godfrey was a native of the islands with much more practice, I didn’t argue with the plan.

  I wore a navy shirt, navy pants with side compartments for ammo, and a pair of dark running shoes. I didn’t think running around the islands in flip-flops would be practical. Although I might as well have dressed in a neon tuxedo and carried an ooga-ooga horn. According to what Shona told Godfrey, cameras were everywhere.

  At least we knew where the guards slept and their routines. And we knew the small cottage where the young girls, including Carly Ly, slept.

  I held on to the railing as the boat sliced through a large black wave, taking us up high and then crashing us back down hard. I could barely make out Rex inside the pilothouse, a lump of dark shadow in a trucker’s cap, the glowing tip of a cigar clamped in his teeth.

  “What about those other girls?” Hawk said.

  I looked around the boat and nodded to the quarters belowdeck.

  “You talk to Godfrey about this?”

  I shook my head.

  “Want me to talk to Godfrey?”

  “Better to ask forgiveness than permission.”

  “After we lock down that main house and account for the guards,” Hawk said. “Bring the girls down to the docks. Ain’t no time to be rowing.”

  “Great minds.”

  “Be crazy as hell,” Hawk said.

  The rain started to fall harder, stinging my face, and we went inside. Godfrey was there filling a coffee cup, half a sandwich in hand.

  “Hungry?”

  “He already ate,” Hawk said.

  We sat in a little nook by a window, the sky and seas equally black. A row of colorful bottles behind Hawk’s head rattled and shook. A nice collection of whiskeys and rum. The thought of each of them made me sick. I excused myself to the head, threw up, and then ran a trickle of cold water in my hand. I cupped my hand for the water and washed out my mouth.

  I soon made my way to the wheelhouse, where Rex checked a computer screen displaying the water currents and patterns of other boats. In the darkness, he pointed to the island and showed we had a clear path that night.

  Rex looked at his big diver’s watch and then back to me, grunting and pointing back to where Godfrey and Hawk stood in the rain.

  I could barely make out the island as we chugged along, illuminated in cracks of lightning, the rain driving in sheets across the black water. Rex got us closer and then cut the engines, and we bobbed up and down silently.

  I could make out the shore better now as Hawk set the dinghy into the water.

  Godfrey handed him the oars. I handed Godfrey the rope and set down the ladder onto the dinghy.

  “Would you like me to whistle ‘Secret Agent Man’?” I said.

  “Will it help keep down your lunch?”

  “It just might.”

  Hawk nodded and began to row toward the jetty.

  57

  We made our way onto the jetty, pulling the dinghy up onto the rocks before Hawk punctured it with a long knife and kicked it into the water. We kept to the western side of the jagged rocks, crouching in shadows until we dashed into a thick patch of foliage at the southern tip of Bonnet’s Cut.

  I was so glad to be off the boat that I nearly kissed solid ground. Moving into a thick patch of coconut trees and saltwater bush, we kept low and away from the security lights mounted on palms rocking in the wind. Beyond the trees, a concrete path snaked up to the big house. I pointed to the blue dome as Hawk unwrapped the .500 Magnum, his pockets bulging with more rounds.

  We followed the path from behind row after row of blooming hibiscus and birds-of-paradise. The air was wet and smelled of citrus. We would meet up with Godfrey at the house. In twenty minutes, Rex would circle back and idle at the pier.

  As we got closer to the big round house, we saw more lights and cameras high in the trees and trained on the grounds. Anyone who was watching at three a.m. would know we’d arrived. I carried the gun in my right hand.

  The closer we got to the big house, we heard music and laughter. Splashing.

  “Sound like the party started without us,” Hawk said.

  “The nerve.”

  Bougainvillea bloomed bright red, covering most of a stucco wall. The pool sat directly below the main house, facing west. We darted out of the thick shrubs and up the hill to get a view over the wall.

  It was a small party. But I could clearly see Peter Steiner in what could politely be called a blue banana hammock. A topless Poppy Palmer sat alongside him, reclining in a lounge chair. They seemed to be delighted with the rain.

  “Poppy?” Hawk said, whispering.

  I nodded.

  “Sounds right,” he said. “Woman could pop a damn eye out with those things.”

  Three young women frolicked in the pool, ducking under the water and swimming to the other side, where they would suddenly reappear. They chirped and laughed in high voices, calling out to Poppy. Finally, Poppy jumped off the chair and dove into the pool with them.

  There was much frivolity and laugher to the beat of electric dance music. An Asian girl emerged from the pool in a teeny-weenie pink bikini.

  “Carly?” Hawk said.

  I shook my head.

  Hawk pointed to the cottage across the way. I nodded. He ran off into the darkness to connect with Godfrey. I jogged down the hill, through row after row of tropical flowers and plants, the rain falling harder now. This close to the main house, there was enough light to plainly see where I was going. My stomach felt hollow and my shoulders tight. I knew they were with us now, watching, making me an easy target for Ruger.

  I found another path snaking from the northern side of the pool. The layout was exactly as Shona had drawn it, down to the wooden carving of a mermaid on the wall of the cottage. It looked like a replica fashioned from an old whaling ship. A light was on by the front door.

  I flicked on a small flashlight I’d brought, opened the unlocked door, and walked inside. It was cool and quiet inside the cottage, with only the hum of the air conditioner. I pressed into the first door to the left, where I found two girls asleep in two small beds.

  Both girls, very young, with platinum-blond hair, shot upright in the bed, shielding their blue eyes and speaking to me in what sounded like Russian. I asked them three times for Carly Ly. When they didn’t answer, I showed them the photo on my phone.

  One of the girls, who looked all of twelve, pointed back into the hall. I smiled, put a finger to my lips, and moved farther into the cottage. Two bedrooms, two baths, a kitchen, and a common area.

  Carly slept on a couch in the common area. I shook her awake.

  She woke up with a scream and tried to bite my hand. I covered her mouth.

  “I came from Boston,” I said. “Maria Tran got your email.”

  She stopped screaming. I let go slowly, careful she didn’t bite into one of my fingers.

  “You know Maria?” she said.

  I told her that I’d met her father and sister
at their family restaurant on Revere Beach. The more I spoke, the more she seemed to believe me. I tried to appear as cool and trustworthy as possible, as armed men were probably coming for us.

  “But I never sent Maria an email,” she said.

  My stomach tightened as I gripped the handle of my gun. I understood now and nodded to the sliding glass doors. “Leave everything and come with me.”

  She was dressed only in a Pats T-shirt that hit her knees.

  “What about the others?” she said.

  I ran into the first bedroom and motioned for the Russian girls to come with me. They looked so much alike they could’ve been twins. Their bodies shook and chins quivered as Carly tried to explain she was following me, pointing to the back door. When they started to pack the clothes, Carly grabbed their arms and shook them. “There’s no time,” she said.

  Through the glass, I saw a bank of hibiscus plants rocking in the wind and rain. I slid open the door and motioned to the girls.

  We could make our way north and down the hill from the big house. I looked at my watch. Rex would be there in ten minutes.

  Hawk knew when and where to meet. All I had to do was get the girls to the landing. Like my uncle Bob used to say, all was going according to Hoyle.

  The Russians whispered to themselves as they followed me and Carly. At one point, Carly lost her footing and nearly toppled down the hill. I caught her, and she kicked off her slippery flip-flops, scurrying behind, careful with each step.

  I stopped and looked down to the illuminated pier, yet to see Rex. Five minutes.

  Then there was shouting and shooting. Quick pistol shots up on the hill. The lights in the big domed house went dark. One of the Russians, blond hair plastered to her head, makeup streaming down her face, started to cry.

  I winked at her. I tried to think of any Russian words but could only come up with borscht and Bolshevik.

  I pointed down to the pier. One girl nodded and said something to the other. It was hard to tell which was which.

  “They said if we made trouble, they’d kill us,” Carly said.