Deep Cut

by Nick Sullivan

  “Have you been here long?” Emily asked.

  “No, no, just got here,” Amber said. “I went to the supermarket as soon as they opened, and I just finished securing my cottage in Hell’s Gate.”

  “By the way, Gordon Hollenbeck and Gerald…” Boone began, before trailing off. “Y’know, we’ve never learned his last name.”

  “Marland,” Amber provided.

  “Thanks. They offered to let us stay over during the storm.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful! I was going to suggest you stay at my place in Hell’s Gate but their cottage is quite solid and tucked into the hillside, and mine’s very small.” She gestured at the rental cottage. “Hummingbird has a beautiful view, but she’s so exposed out here.”

  A series of bleats, some quite human-sounding, came from a thick stand of yellow-orange flowers.

  “Get out of my black-eyed Susans, you little goat bastards!” Amber took a few steps toward the flowers and a couple of tiny goats bounded away. “You too, Crybaby. I see you in there.” Amber took another step and the tiniest goat of the bunch dashed after its pals.

  “Aww, they’re adorable!”

  “Sure they are… until they eat your garden down to the roots. Saba has more goats than people. Good thing they’re delicious.”

  “Nooooo…” Emily whined.

  “Oh, come on Em. You had goat curry in Bonaire,” Boone reminded her.

  “Yeah but… that was just some tasty brown stuff in a bowl, it wasn’t bouncing around looking all cute. Hey, Amber, you have so many goats, you should make Saba the Goat Yoga travel destination of the world!”

  “Goat Yoga?” Amber asked with a raised eyebrow. “What’s that?”

  “It’s just yoga,” Boone said. “But with goats.”

  “You oversimplify everything!” Emily scolded. “See, the goats like to be up high, so when you do some yoga poses, they jump up on your back and just stand there with their wittle hooves. Usually you end up laughing. A lot. And that’s as good for you as the yoga.”

  “People pay money to let goats stand on them?” Amber asked, unconvinced. “What if they take a shit?”

  Boone burst into laughter. “That ever happen, Em?”

  Emily bit her lip. “Um… yes…? But it just made me laugh harder, so…”

  “Hey, can you eat these?” Boone asked, walking over to a bush than ran along a white picket fence. The green, orange, and red fruits that hung from it were berry-sized and had an interesting shape, with little flanges or ribs down the side like miniature pumpkins.

  “You can. Suriname cherries are a bit of an acquired taste, but they make a good jam. I recommend you stick to the red ones, unless you like sour and bitter. They have a big seed in them, so fair warning.”

  Boone plucked two red ones, popping one in his mouth as he tossed another to Emily, who caught it and took a bite.

  “Oh, my!” Emily said, puckering a bit. “Don’t know that I’d call them cherries. They have a tart little kick after the sweet.”

  “Actually, they’re related to guava, cloves, and allspice.”

  “I think I’ll stick to soursop and mangos,” Emily concluded.

  Boone looked around the grounds of the cottage. “Let us know what we can do,” he offered.

  “First, help me bring in the patio furniture, hummingbird feeders, tools, anything you see that might blow away.”

  “Have you been through a storm on Saba?” Emily asked.

  “A couple, but it’s been a while since we had a big one. I was here for Wrong Way Lenny. Most hurricanes travel westward, but that one formed over by Jamaica and came east toward the Leewards. Fortunately, the damage wasn’t that bad. Georges, on the other hand… have you seen those ruined buildings near Juliana’s Hotel?”

  “Yeah, Gordon gave us a tour and we walked by those,” Boone said.

  “Hurricane Georges did that. Used to be a hotel, the Captain’s Quarters. Scout’s Place, where we met, was damaged too. Hospital and airport lost their roofs. The thing about Saba… since we’re basically on a mountain, we’re protected from the main threat from hurricanes: the storm surge. Low-lying islands like Saint Martin, they can suffer a lot of flooding. But the trade-off is, we’re high up, and the higher you are, the stronger the winds.”

  “I was wondering about that,” Boone said as he gathered up a pair of deck chairs.

  “Not only that, but the way the interior is shaped, sometimes the winds can be funneled, almost like a tornado.”

  “How did your cottages hold up?” Emily asked.

  “Well, I didn’t own Hummingbird Haven then, but I heard she lost her roof. My place in Hell’s Gate managed to keep its roof, but barely. I remember being huddled on the bathroom floor holding the door closed while the wind pulled at it.” She looked at them abruptly. “But there were no deaths, scary as it was. We’re an island full of people descended from shipbuilders, so our buildings are incredibly sturdy. Most cottages, every wall joint has extra support.” She retrieved the last of the hummingbird feeders. “But let’s just hope Irma weakens or stays north of us. That being said, will you help me secure the shutters?”

  An hour later, Boone and Emily walked back along The Road toward Windwardside. “I forgot to ask… how’d the training with Sophie go? I saw her down at the airport and she said you were a quick study.”

  “What, you needed her to tell you that?” Emily gasped, playfully shouldering Boone. “She’s a great teacher! I learned a boatload of Krav Maga moves and she gave me some exercises to do. Of course, it’s not as flashy as your capybara.”

  “That’s a South American rodent.”

  “Is it?” Emily grinned impishly at him from beneath her sunglasses. “Anyhoo, I’m going to make this a regular Sunday practice, schedule permitting.”

  They reached the main intersection in Windwardside and Emily came to a sudden halt by the white picket fence in front of Saba Snack. She stared at the dining patio, then looked across at the supermarket.

  “Em, what’s up?” Boone asked.

  “Nothing,” she said, somewhat absently. “I just remembered; we had a spot of bother with a looky-loo while we were eating. Dodgy bloke, gave off a real creepy vibe.”

  Boone felt a prickle at his scalp as he turned to Emily. “What did he look like?”

  “Umm… white guy. Stonking big. Almost as tall as you, but broader. I think he was muscly, but it was hard to tell with the baggy work clothes he was wearing.”

  “Like coveralls?” Boone asked with increasing urgency. “Gray?”

  Emily removed her sunglasses. “Yeah…” she said quietly.

  “What color hair?”

  “Blond.”

  Suddenly, everything clicked into place and Boone grabbed her hand. “Come on. Let’s see if Sid’s here.”

  “Wait, why? Who was that guy?”

  They stepped into the police annex. Sid was at his desk with a cell phone in his hand. He held up a finger when Boone and Emily entered. “Yes, okay, thank you.” He hung up. “Irma has strengthened a bit.” He saw the urgency on Boone’s face. “What’s the matter?”

  “Do you remember that break-in at the trail shop?”

  “Alleged break-in,” Sid corrected.

  Boone waved that away. “Do you remember the man I told you about? The one who was crossing the street from the trail shop?”

  “Yeah, the guy dressed like a workman?” Sid recalled.

  “Or a painter,” Emily suggested. Boone looked at her and she shrugged. “He had yellow paint on him, I think.”

  Something about that comment tickled a memory in Boone’s mind but he filed it away as he told Sid his theory. “This man I saw… the one that Gordon—who knows everyone—didn’t recognize… I felt there was something off about him. I let it go, figuring I was picking up on something that wasn’t really
there. But over on Statia, Reynaldo said a white male, tall and blond, had tried to book passage with him to Saba. He refused him, but then watched the man go across to two smugglers on the Wavy Davey.” Boone slipped a finger under the cord on his neck. “And Rey said the man had one of these.”

  “Holy shit,” Sid muttered, sitting up straight in his chair.

  “So this blond stranger comes over here… from Statia, where they just had a girl go missing… and a few weeks later you have a young couple go missing. And what do we find at the last place we think they were?”

  “A Statian Blue Bead,” Sid whispered. Then he shook his head. “But we don’t know for sure our missing couple was at the customs house.”

  “We know someone was. With two flashlights. And likely enjoying the same kind of beers that couple was seen buying that evening.”

  “And you think this man had something to do with their disappearance?”

  “Yes. I do. And the girl on Statia. And… there was a girl on Saint Kitts, too, the month before that.”

  Sid chewed his lip. “Look, I admit, this feels right… but we haven’t seen any sign of our missing couple. And as for the mystery man…”

  “Emily saw him yesterday,” Boone said.

  “Wait, what? When?”

  Emily was still processing everything Boone had just said, feeling a bit lost in the flood of information. She blinked. “Oh… right… sorry… yeah, early afternoon. Sophie, Anika, and I caught him staring at us. He went across to the supermarket.”

  “The time I saw him he got into a black SUV,” Boone recalled, “parked at the bottom of the Mount Scenery stairs. If we can find that vehicle…”

  Sid sighed. “We’ve got a severe hurricane on the way and we don’t have the resources to do a major search. It could be anywhere.”

  “Yellow paint…” Boone said.

  “What?”

  “Emily said…” He looked up, excited. “Sid, that picture of you and Sophie at the sulphur mine, can you pull it up?”

  “Um… sure?” Sid scrolled through his photos and found it, handing the phone to Boone.

  Zooming in, Boone found what he was looking for. “Emily, did the paint look like this?” He held up the phone.

  “Yes! I remember now, it wasn’t exactly like paint. That’s it!”

  Sid took the phone and examined the photo. “The walls of the tunnels are coated in sulphur deposits, and it’s pretty cramped in there. Not hard to get some on your clothes.”

  “One of the maps that went missing from the trail shop was from the mine, right? And you said a lot of the tunnels were closed off,” Boone recalled. “I think I know where this guy is hiding.”

  It was breezier today, the Servant noted. Not surprising, with what lay over the eastern horizon. He hefted his backpack and started down the trail toward the mine. He had left his vehicle at the dead end of Sulphur Mine Road in Upper Hell’s Gate and was only a few hundred yards along the trail when he heard the sound of a car on the road above. Maybe two. Then the unmistakable slams of multiple car doors, followed by voices. Scrambling off the trail and up the slope to his left, the Servant hunkered down in dense foliage surrounding the base of a thick gumbo-limbo. After a few minutes, the voices grew closer. Two policemen wearing bulletproof vests, one of them with a shotgun, came down the trail, along with a Dutch marine carrying an assault rifle. Accompanying them was a civilian, a tall, lanky man who looked familiar. Last week at the trail shop. He was the one staring at me. Silently, the Servant cursed his ill luck. If that man remembered the SUV he’d been driving, he might have recognized it parked above.

  The group passed by and the Servant remained still and silent. The group was speaking in low voices and he couldn’t make out anything they said, but it was clear they were heading down the slopes to the abandoned sulphur mine. So much for Gunter, he thought. So much for my payment. No matter. Whatever I need will be provided. Once the group had vanished from sight below him, the Servant carefully made his way to the trail and headed back to his vehicle, stopping just short of the stairs that ascended to the road. More voices. One voice was feminine, youthful, with some form of British accent. I know that voice. He left the trail again, angling toward a steep section of slope to get a vantage point of the dead end. Again, he heard the girl’s voice. He found a spot where a number of roots provided excellent handholds. Before beginning the short climb, he adjusted the contents of his backpack, ensuring the duct-taped hilt was easily accessible.

  “Mind you, I think it’s bollocks to get left behind… I mean, why does Boone get to go? On the other hand, I’ve never been a fan of caves. Well, except underwater caves. Love those. Why is that, do you think, that I’m creeped out by land caves, but if I’m in a far-more-dangerous underwater one, that’s actually fun for me? Swim-throughs are the best. You ever go diving? You should, you know, while you’re here.” Emily took a breath. “I’m talking a lot, aren’t I?”

  The Royal Dutch Marine smiled. “Maybe a little,” he said. He was younger than Emily and his command of English was borderline at best.

  “I guess I’m just nervous. If that bad guy really is in there…”

  “Ach, do not worry. If he is, Johann vill take care of him. He is best shot in our unit.”

  Emily noted the assault rifle this young soldier carried. “Why aren’t you with them? I mean… two giant scary guns are better than one, right?”

  The young man laughed. “Your friend, he say to stay vith you. In case they miss ‘bad guy’, and he come back for his car.” He nodded toward the black SUV parked ahead of the two Saba police cars. “If he does, I stop him.”

  Peering over the crest, the Servant glowered at the scene before him. He recalled a line from a movie, about the folly of bringing a knife to a gunfight. Pitting his machete against that assault rifle would be suicide. Besides, his vehicle was likely what had led them here in the first place, and there was nothing of value in it. He would return to his hideaway on foot. His eyes lingered on the beautiful, young blonde. Under five feet, skin tanned and glowing with vitality, her blond hair dangling in a shining ponytail. So much like Lucy. She is perfect. But before the voices could bubble up and berate him, he lowered his eyes from the road and started back down toward the trail. Below, there was a sign at an intersection and he paused there to consult one of the stolen maps. To the right, the trail to The Sulphur Mine. To the left, the All Too Far Trail. He went left. From there, the North Coast Trail would take him to the western side of Saba, and the Middle Island Trail would bring him the rest of the way to the unfinished cottage and his prisoner. The girl he had selected was not quite his type, but she was the Chosen for this island, and she would suffice. Tomorrow evening, he would Ascend.

  The entrance to the mine was a dark hole in the hillside, and Boone felt a chill as he looked at it, although that could just be the brisk breeze that was coming in from the east. He crouched, eyeing the loose scree around the opening—it wasn’t the kind of surface to hold tracks. Still, he didn’t need to see any signs to know they were in the right place. On the way down the trail, Boone had convinced Captain Every that the SUV parked near the head of the trail was definitely the one he’d seen the blond man in the coveralls drive away in.

  “Sid, with your busted rib, I’d feel better if you weren’t crawling around in there,” Sid’s father said. “Stay here with the shotgun and be our lookout. The way those tunnels go, he might come around behind us and make a break for it. And Boone, you stay with him.”

  “You may need me,” Boone replied.

  “No. You’re a civilian.”

  “All due respect, sir, I can handle myself. And going into a bunch of dark tunnels with just two men doesn’t seem like a good idea.”

  Captain Every blew a blast of air through his mustache. He had debated waiting for more backup, but the small police force was already strained, preparing for the storm
. They were fortunate to have borrowed a couple of the Royal Marines as it was. “Fine. You bring up the rear, though. And Sid, give him your vest.”

  Boone held up a hand. “Actually, sir, I think Johann should have that, if you’re planning on putting him in the lead.”

  Sid handed the Dutch marine his bulletproof vest while Captain Every described the layout of the tunnels nearest the entrance. “We’ll have to crabwalk right at the beginning. Most of the mine is blocked off by a gate on the left side of the main tunnel, but there are plenty of places to hide in the accessible areas. Right inside the entrance, it will split. To the right is a cramped side passage. Sid, if he comes up that way, you’ll be able to see him, so if that happens, fire a warning shot and order him to lie down in the entrance. If we’re deep inside, the radios might not work, so that shot will let us know. Now, I want to keep together, no one solo, so we’ll take the main entrance on the left and make a circuit.” The captain placed a hand on the young marine’s shoulder. “Johann, it’s single file in there most of the time, so I’ll need you up front with your weapon.”

  “Not a problem,” the young marine said, pocketing his beret and strapping on the headlamp Captain Every had provided him.

  “Boone… here.” Sid offered his headlamp and Boone took it.

  Captain Every patted a small cylinder on his duty belt that Boone had assumed was tear gas. “If we corner him, and he’s armed, I’ve got this flash bang. In a cramped, pitch-black tunnel it will not be pleasant so if I shout flash, shut your eyes and cover your ears immediately. One more thing, it’s hot in there. Very hot. So take it slow,” Captain Every drew his pistol and hefted a MagLite. “All right, let’s go.”

  For the first minute or two Boone almost had to crawl, and even after the passageway opened up, his height forced him to walk hunched over. He gave a mental chuckle. Emily would have been better suited for this.