Avengers and Rogues Read online

  Avengers and Rogues

  The J.R. Finn Sailing Mystery Series

  C.L.R. Dougherty

  Copyright © 2019 by C.L.R. Dougherty

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  rev. Aug 2019

  Contents

  Avengers and Rogues

  Puerto Rico and the Lesser Antilles

  The Virgin Islands

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Mailing List

  A Note to the Reader

  About the Author

  Also by C.L.R. Dougherty

  Avengers and Rogues

  The J.R. Finn Sailing Mystery Series

  Book 2

  Corruption and Revenge in the Caribbean and Florida

  1

  I was standing neck-deep in the warm water off the rocky beach below the target's villa. The wind was out of the northeast, so the land mass of St. Thomas blocked the sloppy seas that were running in open water.

  I anchored my dinghy among the reefs off Deck Point, a few hundred yards from where I stood. The spot where I left it was well-protected, and the adjacent shoreline was overgrown. The dinghy was well-hidden. I waded along the point until I turned the corner into Jersey Bay, making my swim to the villa's private beach shorter than I expected.

  The calm water was a mixed blessing. Swimming was easy, but I couldn't afford to splash. Any disturbance in the water's glassy surface would reflect the ambient light from the houses ashore, announcing my presence to anyone who was watching. An accidental splash would give me away to the target's security people.

  A steep set of stairs led up from the little beach. From where I stood, I couldn't see the access from the stairs to the compound. I was too close; the perspective was wrong.

  Using a slow breaststroke to avoid roiling the water's surface, I swam out into the bay a hundred yards and turned around, treading water. That solved my perspective problem, but I was too far away to make out details in the dim light. The properties on either side of the target's compound were better lighted than the target's.

  The absence of lighting on the stairs to the target's place might have been a vulnerability for him, or maybe his security measures included motion sensors of some sort. The only way to find out was for me to go ashore. In a black wetsuit with my face covered in camouflage paint, I would be all right, but I dared not use the stairs. I breaststroked my way back to the beach.

  In neck-deep water again, I studied the approach from the beach to the stairs. Working my way in closer to shore, I discovered that the beach was quite steep. As I got into the shallows, I lowered myself to a prone position. Moving slowly to avoid detection, I used a cheap cellphone to scan for infrared light sources.

  Unlike more expensive digital cameras, the phone's camera lacked an infrared filter. If someone caught me with it or searched my boat and found it, the phone wouldn't arouse suspicion the way a more sophisticated infrared detector might. It would make me look like a cheapskate instead of a spy. My low-tech IR detector wasn't as sensitive or as precise as the good ones. That was its downside.

  I crawled to the right end of the beach and aimed the phone across to the left end, swinging it back and forth as I watched the screen. Spotting nothing, I slithered through the water to the other end of the beach and repeated the process.

  Satisfied that there weren't any IR beams to set off an alarm, I crawled up onto the beach. The surface was hard-packed sand with a few pebbles. My weight might have caused crunching sounds, so I moved slowly. For all I knew there were listening devices.

  I made it to the foot of the stairs in a low crawl, holding my belly just off the ground. I dared not use the stairs themselves. There could have been pressure sensors or night vision cameras protecting that approach. Instead, I picked my way through the scrub, crawling parallel to the right side of the wooden staircase, my belly an inch from the ground.

  It took me a couple of minutes to draw level with the top of the stairs. The staircase ended at a 12-foot-square deck with a fence on the opposite side. The fence was wrought iron, about eight feet high, and it bordered on a swimming pool area in front of the villa.

  The fence's gate was closed, probably locked, but there wasn't enough light for me to tell for sure. The fence ran about 50 yards each way from the gate. It joined a concrete wall that enclosed the compound. The wall was a couple of feet higher than the fence.

  With my chin level with the surface of the deck, I got a clear view of the villa on the other side of the pool. It was of modern design; the wall facing the pool was made entirely of glass. The inside lighting was subdued; it was three o'clock in the morning. Everyone inside was probably asleep. There wasn't enough light for me to learn much more about the interior.

  There was a scrabbling sound from somewhere between me and the gate. A fraction of a second later, I was blinded by floodlights illuminating the area in front of me. Resisting the urge to move out of the way, I watched as two men burst from a cabana at the left end of the pool.

  Both armed with AK-47s, they rushed to opposite ends of the wrought iron fence and crouched, their eyes scanning the area outside the fence. They swept the muzzles of their weapons back and forth as they stared in my direction.

  Grateful for the cover provided by clumps of monkey grass, I froze. I closed my eyes lest their reflection give me away.

  "Damned iguanas again," one of the men said, rising to his feet and lowering the muzzle of his assault rifle.

  "Ought to waste the scaly little shits," the other one said. "Every damn night, they do this."

  They ambled back to the cabana and ducked inside as the lights shut off.

  I was grateful to the iguanas. Now I knew a little more about the target's security. At least two men on watch, armed. Lights with some sort of motion sensors. I couldn't cross the open area between the top of the stairs and the gate.

  They blamed iguanas, but the guards were alert and quick to respond. The route I took up the side of the staircase was clear of sensors; otherwise, the guards would have challenged me.

  My goal that night was reconnaissance; I was scoping the place out before I decided how to engage. Getting up to deck level again wouldn't be a problem, but I needed to find a way into the compound. To avoid the gate and the wrought iron fence, I would have to go over the concrete wall.

  I backed down the rocky face of the bluff. With my head below the edge, I crabbed my way to the right, since I was already on the right side of the stairs. As I got farther from the stairs, the face of the bluff became closer to vertical. Using clumps of scrub and the occasional rocky outcropping for hand and footholds, I traversed what I estimated to be 50 y
ards.

  Thinking I should be directly below the corner where the wrought iron fence met the concrete wall, I climbed back up a couple of feet and peered over the edge. I was where I wanted to be. Taking out my phone, I scanned for infrared light beams again. When I didn't find any, I eased my way up and over the edge of the bluff.

  Belly to the ground, I worked my way through the low scrub until I reached the corner of the fence. Between the wall and the adjacent property, there was an overgrown, vacant lot that was a couple of hundred yards wide.

  Rising to my hands and knees, I followed the wall back toward Deck Point Road, away from the beach. Fifty yards in from the corner, the scrub on the vacant lot was high enough so that I could stand without risk of being silhouetted.

  My earlier estimate of the wall's height was correct; it was ten feet. Without something to stand on, I wouldn't be able to reach the top edge. With a running start, I could vault high enough to get a handhold and pull myself up.

  That was risky, though, since I didn't know what was on the top of the wall. There could have been broken glass embedded in the concrete, or motion detectors. I pushed my way into the undergrowth until I was a few feet from the wall. Finding a dead palm tree that was still standing, I shimmied up it a few feet.

  Looking toward the target's house, I could see over the top of the wall. There was enough light for me to pick out the glint of broken glass along its top. With my left arm wrapped around the tree trunk, I pulled my makeshift IR detector out of the waterproof zippered pouch at my waist.

  Sweeping the phone back and forth, I picked up an IR light source on top of the wall in the direction of the road. The beam no doubt ran along the top of the wall to a receiver at the corner where the wrought iron fence joined the concrete.

  The wall looked to be a foot thick, and the beam was roughly a foot above its top. That was too low to sneak under and too high to get over without a little help. That was okay; I could deal with that, since I knew it was there.

  Shifting my attention to what was on the other side of the wall, I saw that there was an open area between the fence and the side of the villa. The villa didn't have any windows that faced the fence.

  I wasn't up high enough to see the ground inside the compound, but up under the villa's eaves I saw a cluster of floodlights on each corner. The lights were aimed down at the patch of ground between the villa and the wall. Given that there were no windows in that end of the villa, there must be cameras. The flood lights were there for security. They were probably triggered by motion detectors, like the ones I saw earlier.

  Where were the iguanas when I needed them? I shimmied down the tree trunk and shuffled around in the darkness until I found a coconut. Picking it up, I took several quick steps toward the wall and heaved it over.

  As I heard the soft thump of the coconut landing, the flood lights flared. In a few seconds, I heard the guards.

  "Another friggin' false alarm. Damn iguanas."

  "Yeah. Well, shit. It's what he's payin' us for," a second voice said.

  "He's not even here, man. Why we gotta do this?"

  "Because it's what he's payin' us for. One time it might not be the iguanas."

  "When's he coming back?"

  "I dunno, man. Not our worry. They took a lot of shit with 'em to Miami, though. Looked like they was gonna stay for a while. Come on; let's finish watchin' the movie."

  The target was out of town. When would he be back? Where was he? My client would be able to help with that. It was time for me to go back to the boat.

  2

  I was crawling through the underbrush along the east side of the staircase making my way back to the beach when I heard them. Their voices marked them as the same two men who were griping about the iguanas.

  They were speaking softly, but the sound carried, and I was on high alert. I froze, sinking to the ground, melting into the vegetation. The treads of the stairs creaking under their weight told me they weren't moving fast. As they came abreast of my position, I was able to make out what they were saying.

  "He's full of shit; he just wants to order us around while the boss ain't here. It's nothin' but the damn iguanas."

  "Uh-uh. He said the IR cameras picked up a guy in the woods east of the wall. Said he threw something over; that's what tripped the floodlights in the side yard."

  "Then why the hell send us to the beach?"

  "Because of the lights on the stair landing. Remember?"

  "Yeah, but there wasn't nobody there; we woulda seen 'em. He shoulda sent us to check out the woods."

  "He sent Harris and Jackson to watch the road. Figures if we're watchin' the beach, we got the guy boxed in. He goes out to the road, Harris and Jackson'll get him. He comes back to the beach, it's you and me."

  "We s'posed to waste him?"

  "Nope. Capture him and take him inside. He wants to interrogate him."

  "Might be fun…"

  I rolled onto my back and threw a fist-sized rock in a high arc over the stairway. It crashed into the brush several yards downhill from their position.

  They clammed up and dropped to their knees, weapons pointed toward the noise. I heard one of them whisper a few words. Then a flashlight beam cut through the darkness, sweeping the undergrowth on the opposite side of the stairs from me.

  "We know you're out there," one of them said. "Stand up with your hands in the air. You got 'til the count of three, then it's too late. One… two… three."

  "Now what?" the other one whispered.

  I heard one of them working the action on his AK-47, chambering a round.

  "No, dumbass!" the second one said.

  The flashlight beam swung up to the sky. The one with the light used it to push the other one's rifle up, barrel pointing at the stars.

  "Well, I warned — "

  "You can't shoot up the damn hillside, you moron."

  "But — "

  "It was probably one of them damned iguanas. Friggin' overgrown lizards. Put the safety on and let's get down to the beach."

  The moron grumbled something I couldn't hear, and they shut off the light. After a few seconds of whispered conversation, the stairs began to creak again. I lay motionless, giving them time to get down to the beach.

  Once I heard their footsteps crunching in the gravel and sand, I started moving. If I inadvertently made a noise, their attention would be drawn to the area where I tossed the rock.

  That's just the way people are wired. I was holding another rock in my fist, in case I needed to reinforce their misunderstanding of the situation. As I crept along, I pondered the new information.

  There were at least three other security people. Jackson, Harris, and whoever was in charge. If they were all as inept as those two, I was in good shape.

  Crawling down the bluff toward the beach, I considered my options. Even as careless as these two were, I wouldn't have been able to cross the beach from the undergrowth without being seen. The crunching of the gravel would have given me away.

  I was in a hurry; the sun would be up soon. There was no good place for me to hide in daylight, so my choices were limited. I needed to put those two out of commission.

  Their assault rifles made me nervous. I wasn't worried about getting shot; I was confident I could disarm them without that happening. One of the two was trigger-happy, though. If he opened fire, the noise would be a problem; it would alert the other security people.

  I needed to disable those two for long enough to allow me to swim away. I didn't want their friends standing on the beach shooting at me while I was in the water.

  I was approaching the edge of the scrub. My two adversaries were standing on the beach, looking up the stairs. They figured that's where I would come from.

  They weren't over 20 feet from me, and they were standing almost shoulder to shoulder. That was good; I could use the one closer to me as cover when I rushed them.

  I carried a blackjack in the pouch at my waist. Unzipping the pouch, careful not to make a sou
nd, I gripped the weighted end of the blackjack in my left hand.

  Pulling my legs up under myself, I dug my toes into the sand as I rose slightly, taking my weight on my left arm. I was in a crouch, ready to lurch forward.

  I rolled to my left and threw my second rock as far as I could toward the other side of the stairs. When it hit the brush, the two guards turned toward the sound. I charged them.

  The one closer to me was sweeping the area where the rock landed with the flashlight. The other one was tracking the beam of the flashlight with his weapon.

  Neither noticed the crunch of my footfalls. I sprinted a few steps as I shifted the blackjack to my right hand, and then I was on top of the closer man. He sensed my presence and started to turn toward me as I smacked him on the temple with the blackjack.

  Grabbing him as he collapsed, I used my momentum to shove him into the second man. While he was trying to untangle himself from his unconscious sidekick, I hit him as well. I delivered a second blow to each, just to be sure they were unconscious.

  Picking up the flashlight, I turned it off and wiped it down to make sure I didn't leave fingerprints. Satisfied they wouldn't wake up soon, I turned and waded out until the water was deep enough for me to swim.

  3

  After swimming back to the dinghy, I motored across the channel to my boat, Carib Princess, in the Christmas Cove anchorage at Great Saint James Island. I went below and got a beer, taking it up to the cockpit to help me unwind from my adventure.