Wreck of the Raptor

by Nicholas Harvey

  Mariano held up a hand, “1.2 Cayman dollar buys one US? That’s not so good.”

  Whitey leaned over. “No, 1.2 US dollars for one Caymanian.”

  The old man grinned and nodded slowly. “Okay, okay, that’s strong.” His expression changed, his grin fading. “But how stable are the islands? They’re so close to Cuba, Castro could take them in a heartbeat; what’s to stop them ending up like Jamaica?”

  Whitey managed a confident smile. “No way Castro makes a move, they’re a British sovereignty island. Cuba invades, the British defend, and the Americans are just dying to get involved. Castro isn’t that crazy. The islands are politically stable, there’s no unrest from the people, and everyone is pulling their cash from the Bahamas and Jamaica and moving it to Cayman.”

  Whitey leaned in farther. “They dropped all their government restrictions on amounts of money in and out, it’s wide open. Best of all, they’re not corrupt, the government is straight up; they just want to establish themselves as a financial destination.”

  Mariano laughed. “I don’t know I can trust anywhere that’s not a little corrupt. How do we buy off the officials?”

  “We don’t need to!” Whitey countered. “That’s part of the beauty, we don’t have to drop a fortune paying off anyone.”

  “Really?” The Peruvian looked amazed.

  “Well, we’ll pay one local to help us facilitate everything, but it’s nothing compared to how much we can move there. Besides, we don’t have to launder any of it, zero loss, it’s completely legitimate to bring all the cash we want to onto the island and walk right into the bank.”

  Mariano’s eyes look concerned despite the smile on his face. “This friend, what does he do and how do we know we can trust him?”

  Whitey sat back and tried to look relaxed. “He’s a local I met in the war when we patrolled the islands, great guy, his family are all fishermen. He’s made a living facilitating things, started by trading supplies to people like us Navy Jacks; since then he’s run the weed import and knows everyone there. He knows who we need to avoid and who we can work with. He’ll arrange a police escort from the airport to the bank.”

  Mariano howled with laughter and waved a hand in the air to interrupt Whitey. “You’re kidding?” he cackled. “The police will escort our money to the bank and we don’t have to pay them anything? What kind of place is this? This is like... what’s Mickey Mouse’s place?”

  He tapped his finger loudly on the table and looked at Whitey for the answer.

  “Disneyland?” Whitey offered.

  Mariano roared with laughter, “Yes, yes. Disneyland! This island is like Disneyland!”

  Chapter 4

  November 2019

  Metallica’s cover of Bob Seger’s ‘Turn the Page’ raged from AJ’s mobile phone propped on her bedside table. A hand appeared from under the covers, fumbled around frantically searching for the source of the disturbance, and hit buttons until the rock music stopped. A low groan emanated from the other side of the bed.

  “No way is it morning yet,” Jackson mumbled without moving.

  “Barely,” AJ managed in response, both still buried under the lightweight duvet.

  After a lengthy silence, a slender leg kicked its way free of the sheets and landed clumsily on the floor. In an awkward rolling slide, the rest of Annabelle Jayne followed the leg and stood shakily rubbing her eyes and brushing her hair from her face.

  “Today is going to suck,” she predicted to no one in particular, and stumbled to the kitchen, which in her tiny apartment was about five steps from the bed.

  “I don’t want to leave,” came Jackson’s soft voice.

  AJ hit the start button on the coffee maker and turned around, frowning.

  “Noooo, I forgot you leave today. Tell them to wait a day. Or a week. Or a year.”

  Jackson laughed quietly. “I’ll make a call.”

  The sheets shifted and AJ slid back under, wrapping her arms around her tall, American boyfriend.

  “Best make sure I remember you properly then,” she whispered in his ear.

  The sun was starting to brighten the eastern sky as AJ plodded down the jetty next to West Bay dock. The Caribbean Sea was calm and smooth with a grey-blue tone in the breaking light. Mermaid Divers’ thirty-six-foot Newton dive boat was already tied to the jetty cleats and Thomas’s beaming smile lit up the dock as she approached.

  “Good lord, Thomas, how the hell are you so damn chipper this morning? I can barely function,” she complained.

  Thomas just laughed. “Happy day after your birthday, Boss.”

  AJ stepped gingerly onto the boat and gave Thomas a quick hug.

  “Thanks again for my watch, it’s too much, and too much for you to contribute to.” She let him go and smiled. “I know what I pay you and it’s not enough to help buy fancy watches.”

  Thomas stepped up to the jetty. “Don’t worry, I think my part bought the box it came in.” He started towards the small hut they shared with Reg’s Pearl Divers crew for storing paperwork and smaller items. “You settle in and drink your coffee, Boss; I’m going to grab some more waivers and greet some people as they arrive.”

  AJ dropped her rucksack on the console before she frantically grabbed it back up and scurried after Thomas. “Damn it! I forgot I’m supposed to pick up one lady from Harbour View by downtown.”

  She ran past him up the jetty toward her van.

  “Want me to go get her?” Thomas shouted after her.

  AJ waved him off as she opened the van door and flung her bag in. “No, I’ll do it, it’s better I explain I’m late on her first day.”

  With that, she fired up the fifteen-passenger van she used as her personal transport as well as the business shuttle vehicle, and sped out of the car park, turning right towards George Town.

  Driving a little faster than she should, AJ took a long swig of coffee and a few deep breaths. Her head had a dullness and steady ache that spiked with noise, motion, and light. She was not a big drinker, so it didn’t take a lot of alcohol to upset her system, and today her system was definitely upset. She decided she’d ask Thomas to do the first dive, as it would be deeper, and she’d do the second. Breathing off the clean, dry air of the scuba tank would actually make her feel better, and she looked forward to an hour of feeling better.

  Her thoughts drifted to Jackson, which made her feel a warm tingle through her whole being. But he was leaving today; that made her head hurt again. Jackson worked on one of Sea Sentry’s conservation, non-profit boats that had perfectly timed a fuel and provisions stop on Cayman on its way to South America. They were leaving port this morning and it left them both wondering when they’d be together again. Her chest felt like it was being squeezed of all air at the contemplation, similar to Reg’s hugs. She wiped the wetness from her eyes as she pulled into a small, dirt car park off West Bay Road.

  Striding towards her was a deeply tanned lady a few inches taller than AJ, but equally lean and muscular, despite being five to ten years older by AJ’s best guess. She had black hair tied back in a practical ponytail, no discernible make-up, and AJ was relieved to notice she was being greeted with a warm smile. Jumping out, AJ met her at the back doors and the lady dropped her rucksack and buoyancy compensator device, the inflatable vest divers used, referred to as a BCD, in the van before extending a hand.

  “Hello, I’m Hazel Delacroix, I assume you’re Annabelle Jayne?” the women asked in a firm but friendly tone with a beautiful hint of a French accent.

  For a second AJ was stunned by this gorgeous lady. Her confidence, her simple yet powerful beauty, and disarmingly relaxed manner.

  “I am, but AJ, I go by AJ,” she managed, “and I apologise for being a little late, we had a...” AJ thought through her fog for a moment, “function last night, and I’m one step behind myself this morning.”

  They got into the front seats of the van and Hazel smiled at AJ. “It’s really no problem. I’m here to relax and enjoy the diving; tim
e is not to be watched too closely.”

  AJ started the van, relieved her new client was amiable, especially today.

  “Although, that’s a lovely watch if you do need to know the time,” Hazel nodded at the Rolex and winked.

  AJ beamed. “Isn’t it?”

  Chapter 5

  April 1974

  A cooling breeze met Whitey as he paused at the top of the steps, a welcome relief after the stuffy, smoke-filled air of the flight. He cautiously surveyed the ramp area, clutching the Zero Halliburton aluminium attaché briefcase tightly in his left hand. A light-brown-skinned man in jeans and a white shirt waved enthusiastically from below where he stood next to a large American-made police car. Whitey tentatively waved back and made his way down the steps, the hot Caribbean sun reminding him he was still in the tropics despite the trade winds. His friend, Ainsley Bush, met him with a spirited handshake and a big smile.

  “Welcome back to Cayman, man,” he said in a Caymanian accent tinged with an American jive talk influence.

  Whitey couldn’t help being a little nervous. It seemed surreal to be greeted off the plane by a police car intending to escort you straight to the bank with your briefcase stuffed full of illicitly earned cash. He felt droplets of sweat careening down his back under his wide-collared paisley shirt.

  “Good to see you Ainsley,” he managed, peering into the police car where an officer politely nodded. Next to him in the other front seat was another man in a blazer and tie who eyed Whitey dispassionately.

  “Who’s the other bloke, Ainsley?”

  Ainsley opened the back door of the car and ushered Whitey to get in. “He’s customs, man, one-stop shop right here brother, no need to go through the building or nothing.”

  Whitey was just about to ask about his luggage when a man in a Cayman Airways uniform dropped his suitcase next to him. Surprised and still slightly dazed by the whole scene, he succumbed to Ainsley’s urging, and got in the back of the police car. A place he generally tried to avoid. Ainsley popped the boot and tossed in the suitcase before sliding in the other side of the expansive car.

  “Gentlemen, this is my good friend Whitey Snow...” Ainsley began as both men turned around from the front. “He’s a respected businessman from the UK who’s steered his South American clients to do their banking business here on our wonderful island.”

  The policeman, a dark-skinned man with a friendly face, just nodded again, and the customs official extended a hand.

  “Welcome to the Cayman Islands, Mr Snow. May I trouble you for your passport so we can get you on your way?” The man smiled politely.

  Whitey passed the man his British passport and glanced over his shoulder at the queue of arriving passengers stretching out the door of the unimposing low, blue building with a white tin roof. A small sign with red letters mounted over the door read ‘Grand Cayman Owen Roberts Airport’.

  “Thank you, Mr William Snow,” the customs official announced, reading his given name before stamping a page and handing Whitey back his passport. “Enjoy your stay, sir.” With that he exited the car and the policeman pulled away.

  Ainsley grinned at Whitey and slapped his leg. “Relax my brother; everything is cool, man.”

  Once they pulled out onto the road that ran around the runway towards town, Whitey started to relax.

  “Did you get me a room, mate?” he asked.

  “Of course, man, ocean view in the Holiday Inn right on the beach. Wait till you see the view by the pool, man.” Ainsley beamed, winking.

  Whitey grinned. “Plenty of time for that, mate. Let’s get this safely tucked away first, eh?” He tapped on the briefcase.

  “Sure thing, man. Dwayne here is heading to the Cayman International Bank and Trust, ain’t you Dwayne?” Ainsley indicated the policeman, who nodded amiably once again.

  Whitey brushed his moustache, the nerves of the first entry into the country behind him; now another wave of concern took over. When he’d thought over his plan for weeks on end, it all seemed simple and easy. Now that he was here and about to take a risk that would undoubtedly cost him his life if it went awry, it felt overwhelmingly real. The Caveros weren’t people you crossed, but they were also fickle in their use of key employees outside the family. Whitey had seen what they did to men they simply suspected of doing them wrong. He needed an insurance policy, and if this played out right, he’d have his.

  The police car pulled up outside a modern building two streets inland from George Town harbour. An expensive sign on the building spelt out the name of the financial institution. Whitey looked around. On the same small street he could see a dozen more buildings with similar signs. The financial industry was certainly booming on the little island.

  Dwayne the policeman finally spoke. “You gentlemen good from here?” he offered in a deep, smooth Caymanian accent. Whitey wondered if he was the island’s version of Barry White.

  “Thanks Dwayne, tell Barbara I’ll be by for some conch gumbo this weekend,” Ainsley replied as he stepped out of the car and waved to Whitey to follow.

  “Are you sure this is secure Ainsley?” Whitey asked, clutching the case and looking around them.

  Ainsley laughed and Dwayne didn’t try very hard to hide a smirk. “Dwayne, what’s the big-time crime you’ve busted anyone for this year?”

  “Had to lock up ole man Tibbetts last week, you know the weird uncle on Miss Celia’s side. Got himself all liquored up and couldn’t understand why his key wouldn’t open his front door,” Dwayne chuckled. “Scared the hell outta Mrs Wainwright, who’s house it actually was. That about the biggest bust, couple of traffic tickets.”

  “Get out of the car, Whitey. Unless some pirate’s rising from the grave, ain’t no one on this island gonna mess with you.” Ainsley flashed his white teeth in his almost permanent smile.

  Whitey, still not completely convinced, got out of the car and thanked Dwayne before closing the door. He followed Ainsley inside the bank where across the reception two nicely dressed female tellers smiled at them from behind their counter. Ainsley led him to the side where several offices had open doors.

  “Well good mornin’ Sheila,” he greeted a lady with an impressive afro in the first office. “Have my man here I told you about, needs some special attention from a special bank lady.” Ainsley laid on the charm like treacle.

  Sheila shook her head as she stood and extended a hand to Whitey. “Despite you associating with this fellow, we’re happy to have you come bank with us, Mr...?”

  Whitey accepted her firm handshake. “Whitey, Whitey Snow.”

  She grinned at his name. “Well, Mr Snow, how can I be of assistance?”

  “Needs to open an account, has a cash deposit to get things rolling,” Ainsley enthusiastically explained.

  “Well, actually, slight change of plan,” Whitey smiled sheepishly at his friend. “Do you have safe deposit boxes Sheila?”

  Ainsley looked surprised but Sheila nodded approvingly. “Of course, Mr Snow, what size box do you need?”

  “Pretty big I reckon,” Whitey replied.

  Chapter 6

  November 2019

  AJ helped Hazel hand her gear over to Thomas on the boat and greeted the rest of the divers who’d arrived while she was gone. Beth and David Freeman were an older couple from New England who had been coming to Cayman for forty years. The Davises, from Ohio, were a family of four and the parents, Maggie and Bill, had been at AJ’s party the night before. They looked a little less chipper than usual. AJ had certified their two teenage daughters a year ago and they were raring to go diving. The eighth diver was Ray Blackburn, an Englishman who lived on island and a keen photographer. He often joined them for an occasional boat trip, especially if AJ had one spot open and gave him the local’s rate.

  After everyone was introduced and gear was stowed, AJ cast the lines off and Thomas eased the Newton away from the jetty.

  “Where does everyone feel like going this morning?” AJ asked, mustering an eager smi
le.

  “Back to bed honestly,” Bill answered with a chuckle.

  His wife nudged him and both girls rolled their eyes.

  Beth Freeman shrugged her shoulders and spoke softly, “We’d be happy doing two shallow dives if that helps?”

  Ray Blackburn added, “Light’s better for me shallow – I’m good with it.”

  AJ surveyed the group lest anyone looked perturbed. It was standard practice to do one deep dive to around a hundred feet then a shallow second dive to less than sixty. Cayman’s steep drop-off around the island made it easy to do a wall dive, then move to the reef that filled much of the area between the drop-off and twenty-feet-deep water.

  “If everyone’s okay with that, we’ll do two longer shallow dives then,” AJ announced, checking again for any complaints and seeing none. “Great, let’s start at Three Trees, that’s always a good one.”

  Thomas nodded from the fly bridge and eased the throttle forward on the Newton.

  AJ decided she would take the first dive after all as they were staying shallow, hoping the dry, tank air would clear her head. She sat next to Hazel who had already set up her gear as they motored towards the dive site.

  “Are you sure you’re okay doing two shallows? Don’t want you to be disappointed on your first day.”

  Hazel smiled. “It’s probably better for me. I haven’t been in the water for a few months and I’ve never been here so safer to stay shallow to start.”

  AJ studied her face as she spoke; the woman was so beautiful. A classic, subtle beauty that seemed more striking the closer you looked. Her movements and mannerisms exuded confidence. She’d assembled her BCD and regulator on a tank quickly and efficiently before AJ or Thomas could offer to help. But there was something in her eyes that AJ couldn’t pinpoint, a sadness or troubled look despite her smile and warm demeanour.

  AJ realised she was staring at the woman and quickly found something to say. “You’ll enjoy this dive, it’s a beautiful part of the reef with lots of life. Where do you normally dive? You live in southern France, right?”