The Mark of Cain

by William J. Coughlin

  Cain looked out at the morning sky. The sun itself had not yet appeared, but it was announcing itself with a red explosion, pushing away the dark purple of the night and lighting up the eastern horizon in tones of fiery reds.

  “Pretty,” Cain said.

  “Crap,” Slick grunted, laying the machine gun on the deck. “You know what Johnson says: red sky at morning, sailor take warning—it’s a bad sign. Besides he says there is a possible hurricane building up.”

  “When did he say that?”

  Slick lit a cigarette. “Right after you and Soldier hit the sack. He stayed around for a few minutes, and we gabbed about this and that. I think seeing Soldier all sliced up sort of threw him. Anyway, he says there’s a tropical storm building up somewhere out here, and the weather stations are tracking it to see if it might turn into a hurricane. This is the time of year that they get them out here. That’s what Johnson said.”

  “That’s all we need,” Cain said, again looking out at the sky. This time it looked more threatening than beautiful.

  Slick exhaled a cloud of smoke from his nostrils. “Well, what are we going to do now?”

  “Somehow or other we have to get back on San Bonaparte.”

  Slick snorted. “Cain, those people ain’t just going to let us come and go as we please. Hell, we come in, kill a couple of their people, and sail out. They ain’t going to let that go on forever. Next time they see this boat coming, they’ll call out the army, marines, or anything else they’ve got there. We’ve been lucky. Let’s not stretch it. There’s other islands. We can start another search somewhere else.”

  Cain shook his head. “That wouldn’t do any good, Slick. San Bonaparte is where the action is. The disappearing boats are somehow tied in with that casino. We just can’t wink at it and pass by.”

  “If we do that, we’ve got a chance of staying alive.”

  Cain studied the sea for a moment. “Losing your nerve, Slick?” The question was not a challenge but a gentle inquiry aimed at ascertaining a team member’s fitness.

  The black man again took a deep drag at his cigarette. “I don’t think so.” His voice was calm and without inflection. “But going back there is betting against the reasonable odds. I don’t mind taking a chance, at least when I think there is a chance.”

  “We’ve done it before. Maiduguri, for instance.”

  Slick looked out at the flaming sky. “That’s exactly what I mean. Five of us went in and only three of us came out. That’s what happens when you bet against the odds.”

  “We have to do our job, Slick, unless you want to bail out and go back to Chicago. We have to accept the risks of our business, you know that.”

  “I can’t go back to Chicago, and you know that.”

  Cain nodded. “Yes. There isn’t any other place for me either, Slick, so we just have to do the best we can. It’s not much of a life, my friend, but it’s better than some I know.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

  They watched the morning sky in silence, each lost in his own secret thoughts. Each man knew that their present dangerous existence was their only future. It was an uncertain fate, one which might bring death at any moment.

  “Any boats come by during the night?” Cain asked.

  Slick shook his head. “Johnson told me to get him up if I spotted a boat, but I didn’t see any.”

  “Why did Johnson want you to get him up?”

  Slick laughed. “I think he had all the excitement he could stand for one night. He told me that if another boat saw us lying dead in the water, they might come over and take a look. He said I should call him and he would move us out. But nothing happened.”

  “Just as well,” Cain said. “All of us needed sleep.” He looked over at the black man. “Even you, Slick. Why don’t you hit the hay? I’ll take the watch.”

  The black man began to stretch his long body, but his fists collided with the cabin’s top. “I’m not built for these boats.” He started to go below and then stopped and faced Cain. “What’s your guess, Cain, about why these people didn’t even chase us?”

  “Tell me, if you had been in their shoes, what would you have done?”

  Slick nodded. “I’d have nailed all of us. I would have come after you, that’s certain.”

  “I have a hunch that the reason they didn’t react and come after us is because they feel they can grab us in a much easier way.”

  “What way?”

  “That, my friend, is the interesting part. I don’t know. We’ll just have to stay on our toes though.”

  Slick nodded. “I suppose. Wake me if anything starts.”

  “You’ll be the first to know.”

  Slick ducked his head and disappeared through the hatch.

  Cain studied the sunrise. The horizon looked as if it had caught fire. The tip of the sun’s red ball was beginning to rise into view.

  “Red sky in the morning, sailor take warning,” Cain said softly to himself.

  *

  Cain was just finishing shaving when Eddy ducked his head into the cramped “head,” a space made for midgets and not men. “Mr. Johnson said you should come up quick, Mr. Cain.”

  Cain wiped away the last trace of shaving cream. “What’s up?”

  Eddy’s dull eyes flickered as he seemed struggling to remember why he had been sent. Then a wide smile broke across his face. “Johnson says there is a boat on fire ahead. I seen it first,” he added proudly.

  “Let’s go.” Cain followed Eddy up the companionway into the main cabin. “What’s this about a boat?”

  “See for yourself.” Johnson nodded his head forward.

  Dark smoke boiled up from a hull a distance away. Cain picked up a pair of field glasses and trained them on the far-off boat. It was a large fishing cruiser with half of its superstructure gone. A man and a woman waved frantically. Cain felt the deep vibrations of the motors as Johnson kept them at full power. They were closing the distance rapidly.

  “Looks like they might have had an explosion,” Cain said. He found it difficult to keep the glasses steady due to the jolting vibration of their boat.

  “Yeah, that’s how it looks to me.” Johnson had his hand pressed against the throttle, insuring that the motors kept on at full speed. “It’s lucky we came along. They’re far away from the usual traffic lanes.”

  Earlier Cain had ordered Johnson to avoid other boats, to stay out of sight but remain within a short run to San Bonaparte. It had been a lucky order for the sinking boat.

  Cain raised the glasses again, struggling to steady them. The top part of the burning boat’s cabin seemed to have been blown away, although its radar mast was still operating. It twisted back and forth above the billowing smoke.

  “Here.” Cain handed the glasses to Johnson. “Take a look at that boat. The radar mast is still working.”

  Johnson took one hand off the controls and tried to hold the glasses against his eyes. “Damn it,” he said. “I can’t see. We’re bouncing around too much.”

  Cain took the glasses back. They were getting close enough to see without the help of the powerful lenses anyway. Soldier and Slick had joined them, and Cain explained the situation to them.

  They were coming very close now. “How do you want to handle this, Johnson?” Cain asked.

  “This will be no problem. We’ll come up to them, and if it looks dangerous, we’ll back off. It won’t help them much if we catch fire too. If there’s any chance of that, we’ll throw them some lines and pull them in through the water.”

  “How about sharks?” Slick asked, the sight of the feeding sharks still fresh in his mind.

  “I don’t see any sharks around,” Johnson said. “Unless they’re feeding, they usually aren’t too much of a problem. Anyway it’s worth the risk to avoid burning to death.”

  Slick nodded.

  Eddy was trying clumsily to adjust the binoculars to his eyes.

  “Eddy,” Johnson said, “get that damned machine gun out of
sight. We don’t want to scare these people to death when they come aboard.”

  Eddy nodded uncertainly. He looked around the cabin until he discovered the machine gun lying next to a chair. He picked it up, holding it away from him as if it might have poisonous stingers, and carried the weapon below.

  “Looks good,” Johnson said. “No flames. We can pick them right off their boat.” He looked at the three men in the cabin. “I’ll put us right next to it. Go out there and help them aboard. As soon as we get them, I want to get away from their boat as fast as possible.”

  Cain followed Slick and Soldier out of the cabin. They were close enough to see the worried face of the woman. She waved to them frantically. She was dressed in light brown slacks and wore a smudged sweatshirt. Her hair was held down by a cloth knotted under her chin. The man, his shirt torn, moved past the smoke to the front of the boat to catch the prow of the rescuing craft as it came near them. Thick black smoke continued to billow up from the ruined cabin. It looked as if someone had taken off the back half with a saw.

  The woman leaped across the few feet separating the boats and landed easily on the deck. Soldier moved to help her, but she shook her head. In an instant she reached beneath the sweatshirt and whipped out a Luger pistol, pointing it at the three men in the cockpit.

  Two men popped up from the ruined cabin like ducks in a shooting gallery, so fast it was hard to believe they were there. One held a machine gun, its ugly muzzle swaying back and forth ready to cut them down. The other man had his pistol leveled at Johnson who stood at the controls in the cabin.

  The man with the torn shirt produced a small automatic and also pointed it at Johnson.

  “Ah, such good Samaritans.” The woman’s voice was husky. She reached up and pulled off the head-cloth and the wig. She was no longer a “she” but a slender young man with an evil grin. “Welcome,” he laughed.

  The man with the machine gun scrambled aboard, taking a position near the open hatchway door to the cabin, the ugly muzzle pointing back at Cain, Soldier, and Slick standing in the cockpit. The machine gunner’s partner climbed aboard and made his way forward until he was standing on the prow in front of the cabin.

  “Which one of you is Cain?” the young man asked.

  “I am.”

  “Do you like fishing, Cain?”

  Cain made no reply.

  “I hope you do. We are going to take you gentlemen on a little fishing expedition.” He paused, his eyes darting from one man to the next. “We fish for sharks; big ones. You’ll find it exciting.” He laughed. “You are going to be the bait.” His dark eyes glittered in anticipation.

  Slick said nothing, but he silently swallowed hard.

  Soldier stood quietly, as if taking no notice of the whole proceeding, but his eyes were alert, watching for an opening. He appeared relaxed, but he was ready.

  “All right, Patsy, you can take the boat back now.” The young man, obviously in charge, spoke to the man with the torn shirt. He coughed as a soft breeze engulfed them in oil-scented smoke. “And get rid of those damn rags.”

  The man in the torn shirt seized a metal boathook and using it as a stick lifted a large metal pail. The black smoke was boiling out of the pail, its source obviously smoldering oily rags. The man dropped the pail into the water, and the rags sizzled as they met the sea.

  After completing his chore with the rags, the man with the torn shirt started the “disabled” boat and roared away.

  The machine gunner had his back to the open cabin door. Cain was facing him. The young man was watching the other boat as it sped away. He did not see Eddy come up the companionway, holding the machine gun in his shaking hands.

  “We’re going to feed you to the sharks,” the young man said. “We’ll teach you bastards not to kill our men. You’ll wish you’d never been born before our little pets get through with you.”

  Eddy was almost up now. Cain knew in a moment the gunman on the prow would see him and either call a warning or shoot Eddy. The boy’s face was ashen, and Cain could see the weapon tremble in his hands. If Eddy fired now, Cain knew he would not only kill the two gunmen but that he, Slick, and Soldier would be cut down as well.

  Eddy seemed to freeze on the stairway. Cain instinctively knew the boy would go no farther. Eddy’s lids were so wide Cain could see the whites extending all around the iris.

  “Johnson,” Cain said in a low voice, almost conversationally, “drop down to the deck.” Cain smiled at the young man with the gun, who looked puzzled.

  Eddy’s mouth popped open. Sensing something happening behind him, the other machine gunner started to swing around. Soldier knocked the young man over the side of the boat as he dived for the deck. Cain and Slick were already down. Eddy squeezed the trigger as he shut his eyes. The slugs ripped into the machine gunner. Before he could fire, he dropped the gun and reeled past Cain, the impact of the bullets spinning him like a dancing doll.

  Cain grabbed the machine gun on the deck. Eddy was still firing, the bullets whining by them. The gunman on the prow of the boat was trying to move to get a better shot at Eddy. He slipped and a slug went screaming off into the Caribbean.

  Eddy stopped firing, and Cain stood up, firing a short burst aimed just over the cabin’s roof at a level with the gunman’s head. With half his skull missing, the gunman flipped backward like a diver, his body arching into the water with a loud splash.

  Johnson put the engines into neutral and hurried to Eddy, who lay on the cabin floor twitching.

  “Is he hit?” Cain demanded.

  Johnson looked him over quickly. “I don’t think so. I think he’s just scared.”

  Soldier was leaning over the stern of the boat talking to the man he had knocked into the water. “Say, with your friend there”—he nodded toward the dead gunman floating a few feet away—“pouring blood into the water, doesn’t that sort of thing attract sharks?”

  “Get me out of here, for God’s sake!” The young man’s voice was filled with panic as he trod water.

  Slick joined Soldier and casually lit a cigarette. “You must know a lot about fish,” he said to the man in the water. “Are sharks the only ones who swim with their fins out of water?”

  There was no reply.

  “Because if so, you are in a whole lot of trouble, my man. I see a fin back there about twenty yards away.”

  “Please!” This time the plea was a scream. “Get me out of here!”

  “You were going to feed us to the sharks,” Soldier said, his tone quite pleasant. “I think turnabout is fair play, don’t you?”

  Cain stepped to the stern and looked down at the swimmer. Soldier was correct; the water was being discolored by the bleeding corpse. It floated just beneath the surface, water washing over its bloody back. The swimmer’s face was filled with fear as he frantically twisted his head from one side to the other looking for sharks.

  “Jesus!” Slick’s voice was filled with panic. He pointed. He had been lying about the fin before, but now two of them had surfaced and were coming toward the boat quite fast.

  “Get him out of there,” Cain commanded, watching as the fins slid through the water.

  Soldier leaned over and extended one of his big hands. The terrified swimmer grasped it, and the big man lifted him out of the water and into the boat as if he were only a wet doll.

  The man stared at the body of the other dead gunman crumpled up against the stern.

  “Get your hands up,” Slick said. He gave the wet man a quick but careful search. He nodded to Cain. “He’s clean.”

  Cain touched the dead gunman with his toe. “Might as well get rid of this customer.”

  Soldier grabbed the body and flipped it overboard. Water sprayed over the side of the boat.

  “Cain, look!” Slick’s eyes were fixed on the first floating body. One of the fins had come up to it.

  Cain grabbed their wet prisoner roughly, twisting him around. “Watch this,” he commanded, his voice full of menace.

/>   Soon the other fin came up to the first body. The corpse was nudged and then nudged again. It was pulled beneath the surface and then bobbed back up. Suddenly there was a great swirl of water, and it was gone. The man Cain held began to sob, but Cain kept him pointed at the action. The second corpse met a similar fate.

  Cain whipped the man around, smashing his open hand, fingers first, into the man’s stomach. The prisoner gasped and fell to his knees.

  “My friend,” Cain’s voice was almost a whisper. “You will tell us everything we want to know or you will join your two companions. Only you will be alive so that you can see and feel the whole thing.”

  “Anything,” the answer was a choking cry. “Anything. I’ll tell you whatever you want, just don’t …” He started to sob. Cain wondered how many people had died at the hands of the crying young man. Cain felt no pity.

  TEN

  Johnson kept one eye on the radar screen as they raced across the sea. The blip moved steadily across the screen like an arrow headed for its target. The decoy boat was very fast. Even with both of their powerful engines wide open, they could not keep up with the speed of the blip. Johnson had told them that the effective range of the radar was only ten miles, and the blip was nearing the end of the screen, moving out of range.

  The radio was on, although Johnson had turned the volume down. Static crackled over the air waves. “There’s a storm building up,” Johnson said.

  “Keep going,” Cain responded. “If that other boat can make it, we can.”

  The prisoner sat on the deck of the cabin, his hands bound behind his back. His shifting eyes darted about, watching everything that went on around him. Cain studied the man. He guessed his age to be in the mid-twenties, although with a smooth-faced man like the prisoner it was hard to tell—he could be several years older or younger. His dark curly hair was cut long, and his skin was deeply tanned. Soldier had removed the wet sweatshirt and had thrown a towel about the man’s shoulders. He had a swimmer’s build, long smooth muscles; muscles with a capacity for endurance. His high cheekbones revealed some Indian blood, probably of South American origin. His English carried no accent.