“The Raptor?” AJ asked, confused. She tried to read Hazel’s expression but in the dim light outside the pub she couldn’t really tell.
Hazel had her hands on her hips and replied without hesitation. “Oui. I need to go back inside the engine room.”
Chapter 43
June 1974
Whitey and Isabella spent an hour over the reef before finally swimming back to the beach. The sun was now overhead and they spread out their beach towels they’d left in a bag on the sand. He smiled at her cheap tourist shop sunglasses as he slipped on his Ambermatic Aviators. Moving here would mean giving up such luxuries; a dive guide’s wage would be a far cry from the handfuls of cash the Caveros paid him. He couldn’t keep count of his income as Gabriel would always slip him money, especially when he was out on the town and drinking in Miami. He knew it was a lot. He didn’t know exactly how much he had hidden in his apartment on the mainland; he’d been stuffing cash in there for two years now, so he assumed quite a bit. Probably enough to buy a small house on the island and have some fall-back money left over.
They lay back on their towels and let the bright sun dry their bodies to the sound of the ocean lapping gently up the sand. Whitey’s hand found hers and his mind wandered over what he needed to arrange and put in place if he was to disappear. But he’d be disappearing in the second place the Caveros would look, after Miami.
“What was it like here during the war?” Isabella asked quietly, her eyes still closed.
Whitey thought for a moment. “Quieter. None of these hotels were here.” He sat up and looked back and forth along Seven Mile Beach. He could see three or four two-storey hotels from where they sat, nestled amongst the palms, seagrapes and ironwoods lining the top of the beach. A few dozen people scattered along the beach front, sunning themselves, as they were.
“I’m guessing there’s twice as many people here, I think there’s over ten thousand these days, plus all the tourists, which has to be a few thousand at any given time,” he added.
She sat up as well and looked towards George Town as Whitey pointed towards the town, a few miles to their south.
“The port was similar but a lot less building around it. The town was mainly homes, and a few businesses. They had a home guard and a small military station here, so we’d stop in for fuel on our way back to Jamaica.”
Whitey thought about his early days in the British Navy and the crew of the Motor Torpedo Boat he’d been assigned to. It was only thirteen men, so he got to know everyone in short order, their good and bad traits.
“I was a kid really,” he reflected, “but I thought I was Jack the Lad. This bloke Arthur took me under his wing a bit; he’d been around for most of the war, mainly off the English coast in a similar boat, so he’d seen some things. Anyway, he sat me down after my first patrol with them and asked me all about myself, you know, where you from, where’d I grow up, all that. He was a quiet spoken man, had a way of calming things, calming people down. He says, ‘Son. You’re a small cog in a big wheel and if you don’t line up proper with the cogs next to you, the wheel won’t turn properly. This may seem like a lark and an adventure but don’t forget what’s at stake. Have fun, be yourself, but just remember, one day you may need that bloke next to you on the wheel, and best he feels he needs you too.’“ Whitey smiled, picturing Arthur Bailey and the rest of the men on the patrol boat. Somewhere in his apartment he had a picture of them all, taken in George Town harbour in 1945. He reminded himself to dig that picture out when he was home.
“After that I made sure I was a bit nicer and not so cocky around my shipmates. Sure enough they started accepting me as part of the crew.”
“Did you learn to dive in the Navy?” she asked.
“Later, after the war I did, they trained me, but it was hard hat stuff, the big brass helmet and goofy-looking suit. But I started skin diving and snorkelling over the reef when I was here in ’45. Fell in love with it in Cayman. Scuba gear didn’t really become available much until the late fifties, which is when I got a kit in Australia and started diving with an air tank.”
Whitey could hear Queen’s ‘Seven Seas of Rhye’ getting louder and looked around to see where the music was coming from. Ainsley was walking down the beach, a big, white, toothy smile on his face, a fedora on his head, and a transistor radio hanging in his hand. He waved as he shuffled through the soft sand towards them.
Whitey turned to Isabella with a smile. “Picked this character up during the war too, been my best mate ever since.”
Isabella laughed. “Really?” she asked, surprised. “You’re a...” She paused to find the right words. “An unlikely pair.”
Whitey nodded. “That we are, my dear.” He waved back to Ainsley. “But this bloke would do anything for me, never had a friend quite like him.”
“Look at you two,” Ainsley greeted them, his smile broadening even wider, “two beautiful lovebirds on this fine beach of ours.” He reached into the pocket of his tartan bell-bottoms and produced a Kodak Pocket Instamatic 60 camera.
“Let’s get a picture of you two looking like James Bond and his Ursula Andress,” Ainsley said, waving to them to stand in front of the ocean.
Whitey was reluctant – he hated having his picture taken – but he looked at Isabella and decided he’d really like a picture of her in her scant bikini. They walked into the water carrying their fins and masks and turned when they were ankle deep. Isabella put her arm around him, and Whitey smiled the most natural smile he’d ever managed in a photograph.
Chapter 44
November 2019
AJ’s mind raced with scenarios in which she’d missed something on the dive. She was sure Hazel had come out of the engine room with her light. She’d understand her wanting to go back if she’d lost it, those things were expensive, but she had seen it in her hand.
“What did you lose?” she asked.
“Here, sit down,” Hazel said and led AJ to a bench outside the pub where they both sat. “I have some explaining to do.”
AJ’s concern grew, and her brain was in overdrive trying to figure out what was going on.
Hazel took a deep breath. “Hear me out before...” she struggled for the words in her second language.
“Before what? You’re scaring me Hazel, what on earth is going on?” AJ’s voice cracked a little.
Hazel held up her hand. “There is something in the engine room of the Raptor that I came here to get.” She let that sink in a moment and gathered herself before continuing, “I owe you an explanation, I know, and I can explain it, I promise.”
AJ was stunned. It slowly unfolded in her mind until she fell across the crux of the situation.
“You’ve been lying to me the whole time,” she said, not phrasing it as a question. “All this bullshit about diving some interesting wrecks was a lie to get me to take you to the Raptor.” She looked down at the dress she was wearing and wished she could tear it off and throw it at Hazel.
Hazel put her hand on AJ’s shoulder, but AJ shrugged it away. “No! You lied to me, Hazel. You’ve been playing me this whole time and I’ve been stupid enough to fall for it,” AJ spat back, desperately trying to keep from crying. “Why the hell didn’t you just tell me up front that you wanted to dive the damn wreck?”
“I couldn’t,” Hazel said softly, her own voice on the edge of breaking, “I couldn’t, there’s so much that’s been a secret. I didn’t know you, I couldn’t just come out with the whole story.” Hazel placed her hand on AJ’s. “But now I know you, I know I can trust you completely, so I’m telling you everything.”
AJ wiped her face with her other hand; the tears she didn’t want to shed were creeping down her face in complete disregard of her wishes. She rarely cried and it made her angry when she did. She pulled her hand from Hazel’s and looked her square in the eyes. “Why should I believe a word you say now? Just because you say so? Once you’ve lied Hazel, you’re a liar – why should I even begin to trust you again?”
Hazel shook her head and in the pale light AJ realised tears were coming down Hazel’s cheeks too.
“I know, I know, I’ve given you no reason to believe me now, but hear my story before you decide, I beg you, please hear me out, and then decide?”
AJ looked at the ground. Her normal reaction would be to tell her to go to hell and walk back inside. People had one shot. If you can’t be trusted, then be damned with you. She wouldn’t be one of those fools that gets duped and lied to over and over. This is why she didn’t let people get close this quickly, she scolded herself; if I’d kept her at arm’s length, this wouldn’t be happening. But she’d so enjoyed being around Hazel – was she such a bad judge of character? The idea that she’d misread the woman completely, and everything they’d done and talked about since she’d arrived, was nothing but a calculated plan? The thought was unbearable.
“Please AJ, I can’t stand for things to end this way between us.” Hazel took her hand again and once more AJ allowed her. “Hear me out, and then if you decide to have no more to do with me, I’ll understand. I’ll be devastated to lose you, but I’ll understand.” Hazel shuffled closer and sniffled as she spoke quietly, “You don’t have to help me at all, I’ll figure something out, but please hear what I have to say so you understand why I couldn’t be straight with you from the beginning.”
AJ’s hope that she wasn’t the worst judge of another person barely outweighed her anger and feeling of foolishness. Hope was a powerful drug. The scales imperceptibly tipped and she nodded, but kept her eyes on the ground. If she looked at Hazel, she’d either punch her or hug her, and neither would be a resolution.
Hazel took another deep breath and started. “I met a man on Corsica about five years ago. An old French man. He was in his late eighties and couldn’t get around much anymore. He would sit in the port at the old town of Calvi in the north, and watch the boats come in and out. We would dive the B-17 aeroplane that was shot down there in the war; it’s a few minutes’ boat ride outside the port, and the old man would see us off in the early morning and greet us when we returned. I started talking to the him. Most people just ignored him or said hello in passing, but I started spending a few minutes with him each time. He was fascinating, he’d been in the war and had been a diver in his younger years, so the wreck interested him.”
AJ looked up. “My grandfather fought in the war. He patrolled these waters, in fact,” she said before she could stop herself.
“You said. He rescued the submariners from the U-boat, right?”
AJ could tell Hazel was relieved she was engaged so she just nodded in response and Hazel continued her story. She wasn’t ready to be nice.
“After a while I would take the man to one of the little cafes in the old town and we’d chat for ages about all kinds of things. He said he had no family anymore, so he was delighted in the company. One day he says he’s going to tell me about something he’d never told a soul before. He said he couldn’t tell me how he knew but he swore every word was the truth. I wasn’t sure what he meant but he became very serious and spoke quietly so I listened, and listened carefully. ‘On Grand Cayman in the Caribbean, there’s a shipwreck on the north-west corner of the island,’ he said. ‘It is the wreck of the Raptor. In 1974 a man hid a key on that wreck and it’s still there today. The key is to a safety deposit box in a bank. In that box is four million US dollars less thirty thousand dollars.’ I asked him why it was less thirty thousand dollars and he said it wasn’t important. The money belonged to no one anymore, everyone that had anything to do with it was dead, or had long since disappeared. The bank had instructions that anyone who showed up with the original key, which had a unique security code stamped on it, would be granted access to the box and its contents. He told me he was too old. Once he’d planned to go and get it, he’d been a keen diver, but he’d never had much money, not enough to jump on a plane and fly halfway around the world. So, time had worn on, he’d never made it to the island, and now he was too old and frail to make such a journey, let alone think about the dive. He took my hand and looked me in the eyes and said, ‘Hazel, when you have a time of need, not a time of greed, go to Grand Cayman and get that money.’“
AJ didn’t know what to say. The story drew her in and captivated her, but she couldn’t let her guard down and simply believe Hazel just because she told a good story.
“What happened to the man?” she asked tentatively.
“I don’t know. The day he told me that story was the last time I ever saw him.” Hazel looked pained. “I didn’t know where he lived or what his real name was, so I looked, and asked around the port, but no one knew him or where he was from.”
“You spent all that time with him and didn’t know his name?” AJ asked incredulously.
“He told me he went by Père Noël, that’s all I ever knew him as,” Hazel explained without becoming defensive.
“Father Christmas?” AJ asked, checking her meagre grasp of the French language.
“Oui, Father Christmas,” Hazel replied. “So I never saw him again, and honestly I forgot about the story for years until my life starting coming apart. My mother died, then a few months later I lost my job, as I told you, and on top of that I had my identity stolen. In France we have what’s called an INSEE code, it’s France’s social security number system, like they have in America. Mine was stolen and all my credit cards, my house mortgage, my car loan, they were all compromised, and my accounts were locked down. It was like my whole world collapsed within two months, everything turned to shit right in front of me. For a few weeks I couldn’t buy a coffee, I had to borrow cash from friends until my bank account was unfrozen. But my credit was destroyed so the credit card companies all wanted the balances paid off and raised my interest rate through the roof. It was then I recalled Père Noël and his crazy story. I thought, what the hell, maybe he was telling the truth, what do I have to lose? So, I booked this trip and persuaded you to take me to the wreck, which honestly, didn’t take much persuading, and I looked where he’d told me in the engine room, and I think his story is true.”
“So you think the key is still in the engine room? Where exactly? I saw you’d been digging around in there – where do you think it is?” AJ asked, still torn with mixed emotions.
Hazel looked around to make sure no one was close enough to listen, “On the port side of the engine there’s an oil filter. There’s no actual filter inside, there’s a rag wrapped around the key. I found the filter, but I couldn’t get it to budge.”
“And just because there’s a filter on the side of a diesel engine you think Father Christmas was telling the truth? If you check every boat on Grand Cayman, there’s an oil filter bolted to their engine.” AJ sat back pretty sure she’d shot a big hole in Hazel’s story.
“He told me there’d be a crowbar holding the engine room door open and he told be there’d be a tin of grease below the filter; both were true. The grease was used to keep the threads from seizing and corroding,” Hazel shot back. “But it’s tight enough it won’t budge. I think we need a wrench or something.”
AJ frowned at her. “We nothing. I still don’t know if I should let you back inside the pub with my friends, let alone help you.”
Hazel held her hands up. “I’m sorry, I understand. It’s a crazy story. Imagine if I’d told you this when you first picked me up from my hotel? You’d have made me get straight back out the van.”
AJ had to admit that’s probably exactly what she would have done but she wasn’t about to give any ground back just yet. She ran through the story again in her mind. There were so many questions.
“Why did he choose you? Why tell you?”
Hazel shrugged. “I was nice to him. I think that was it, I genuinely enjoyed chatting with him.”
“Whose money was it? It wasn’t his. He said everyone who knew about it, or owned it, was gone?” AJ asked pointedly.
“He would never say exactly but he was adamant they were long gone, and it was just
sitting there,” Hazel replied.
“So, the money could be drug money or a hitman’s life savings? A Nazi’s war stash?” AJ wondered aloud.
Hazel nodded slowly. “I guess. I have no way of knowing. What I know is he told me I should turn to it when I have a time of need, not a time of greed. Believe me, this is my time of need. I’m about to lose my house and I’ve lost all my savings paying all the balances off. I’m forty-four years old, I’ve worked my arse off my whole life and I’m about to lose everything through no fault of my own. This isn’t driven by greed. If it was, I would have come here the day after he told me.”
AJ sighed and rubbed her eyes. She was drained and couldn’t process this improbable tale anymore. She needed a drink and she needed some sleep.
“Let’s go back in. They’ll have given up on their drinks.” AJ managed a weak smile.
“Are we okay?” Hazel asked hesitantly.
“I don’t know, Hazel. I have to think about all this, it’s a lot to take in. I’m sorry you’ve had such a hard time, and I’m awfully sorry about your mum, but I don’t know where we are. I get why you held back the story to begin with, but you manipulated me to dive the wreck and that really hurts.” AJ stood. “I need to sleep on it. Tomorrow’s my day off, Carlos and Thomas are working so you’ll be diving with them if you still want to go out.”
Hazel stood too. “Maybe I should stay off the boat until we’ve worked this out. I’ll be at my hotel if you want to talk.”
AJ nodded and walked towards the door. She didn’t feel much better, but she didn’t feel like she’d completely misread Hazel either. Unless, of course, she was making all this up. Some imagination if she is, she thought, and pushed the door open to the pub. Pearl was into her next set, belting Sass Jordan’s ‘Make You a Believer’. AJ shook her head and rolled her eyes.
Chapter 45
July 1974
Gabriel Cavero’s villa was a mile from his father’s, on the same mountainside overlooking the Río Huallaga and the town of Huánuco. They owned most of the mountainside and Gabriel’s brother had a home on the other side to their father’s. July was the coolest month in the valley, the nights dipping into the forties, but the sunny days still reached the seventies in contrast to the snow rimming the surrounding mountains. Whitey had arrived late the night before, brought there by the family’s driver, and stayed in one of the guest rooms. He’d been glad Gabriel and his wife were already asleep, but now he could delay their meeting no longer, and he walked into their dining area to join them for breakfast.
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