Bluewater Voodoo: Mystery and Adventure in the Caribbean (Bluewater Thrillers Book 3) Page 16

  Pouring herself a cup of the strong, black coffee, she sat down and inhaled the rich aroma before her first sip. Jolted awake by the fumes, she said, "Where’d the pastries come from?"

  "Lilly and I went ashore and did a little shopping," Liz said. "You were out cold."

  "I guess! I never even heard the outboard." She picked a pain au chocolat from the basket and broke off a piece of the flaky crust.

  "So how long do you think they’ll make us wait?" Lilly wanted to know.

  "Probably until tomorrow, if you want my bet," Dani offered. "They wouldn’t want to plan it too close, not knowing how fast we could move. They’d probably figure on us getting here tonight."

  "And you think they’ll have us sail up to, … what were those islands you and Phillip were talking about?" the professor asked.

  "Îles de la Petite Terre. It’s a wildlife and marine sanctuary. Pretty deserted in the off-season, especially on a weekday." Dani said.

  "You still think it’s a trap, don’t you?" he asked.

  "Why else would Martinez turn the zombie over to you?" Liz asked.

  "You’re starting to sound as paranoid as Dani," Lilly said. "Why couldn’t it be that they just want to get rid of the zombie?"

  "Don’t be so naïve," Liz said. "Sanchez told Dani that Martinez was the personal hit man for Hugo Chavez. He doesn’t sound like the type that would go to any trouble for anyone. If he wanted to get rid of somebody, he’d just wrap some chain around his feet and drop him overboard."

  "If you and Dani believe that, why are you doing this?"

  "Martinez sent two thugs to board my boat. I’m pretty sure they weren’t going to kidnap you and leave the rest of us to tell about it," Dani said. "I don’t know about you academic types, but when somebody tries to kill me, it pisses me off. Besides, they bled all over the place. Look! You can still see the stains on the deck."

  "So you and this Phillip person think you can take matters into your own hands? What makes you think Martinez won’t try to kill you?" Lilly asked.

  "Nothing. I’m quite sure he’s going to try to kill us all tomorrow, but he has no idea what he’s blundered into. Jerks like that aren’t accustomed to victims that fight back."

  "I don’t believe this. You guys sound like characters from a bad movie," the professor said. "Talking about who’s the toughest."

  "You got us into this, Professor. You don’t have to come tomorrow. There are some nice hotels here. Do you want out?" Dani asked.

  "I think you’re wrong. I think we’ll get the zombie tomorrow, and we’ll never see this Martinez. So, no. I don’t want out. I’m coming with you."

  "Okay. That’s settled. Can you handle a gun?" Dani asked.

  "What? A gun?" the professor asked. "Where will you get a gun?"

  "Answer me first. You ever do any shooting? Either of you?"

  "No," the professor said.

  Lilly shook her head, frowning.

  "Then don’t worry about it. When we get where we’re going, stay out of sight unless I tell you otherwise, or you might get shot."

  "Do you carry guns aboard?" the professor asked.

  "Not usually. It’s too much trouble to do it legally and it’s not worth the risk of getting caught if you do it illegally. But when I’m going into a situation where I expect shooting, I make an exception."

  "Where did you get guns, then? When?"

  "Well, the guys that boarded us a few days ago left a nice, silenced pistol behind, and I borrowed a couple of AK 47’s before we left Martinique."

  "Do you know how to use them?"

  Dani and Liz both nodded.

  "You’ve never shot anybody though, have you?" the professor asked, a sneer on his face.

  "Not recently. I’ve got this thing for knives," Dani said. "Guns scare me. I don’t like the noise. Attracts too much attention. Besides, when I kill, it’s personal. I like to feel the blood on my hands, you know."

  The professor shook his head as Dani excused herself and went below.

  "Has she ever shot anybody, Liz?" he asked, a worried look on his face.

  "Nobody that didn’t shoot at her first, as far as I know," Liz responded as she poured him some more coffee. "Cream and sugar?"

  He shook his head.

  "I need to go get dinner started, then. You two call me if you need anything," she said, with a hostess’s smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  Chapter 25

  Vengeance rose and fell rhythmically with the long-period swells rolling through the channel between Marie Galante and Grande Terre, the eastern part of Guadeloupe’s mainland. The 15-knot wind was just aft of the starboard beam and all sails were drawing, moving her along at close to nine knots.

  "How much longer?" the professor asked.

  "Hour and a half, no more," Dani replied, one hand on the helm, the other arm stretched along the cockpit coaming. "If we don’t hear from Phillip pretty soon, I’m going to reduce sail. Give him a chance to check things out on Terre Haut."

  "Giscard said the zombie was chained to a big pile of driftwood on the east side. Have you been there? To Îles de la Petite Terre? Or you just know it from the charts?"

  "Both. I’ve been there, but it’s been a couple of years, before we had Vengeance. The east side of both islands has a reef that stretches out a good way into the ocean; it breaks the swells, but there’s enough water over it so that all kinds of junk washes up. Dead trees, trash from ships, you name it. Depending on the time of year, it can be a regular dump. The fish are incredible; it’s a place worth visiting to snorkel the reefs."

  Liz came up the companionway ladder, satellite phone in her right hand. "It’s Phillip," she said, handing the phone to Dani and taking the helm.

  ****

  The nondescript white van rolled slowly along Collins Avenue in Miami’s South Beach. The driver was intent on the late-night, stop-and-go traffic. Cars were cruising at walking-speed as people ogled the ‘merchandise’ for sale along the sidewalks. There were frequent stops, during which the merchandise would approach the stopped vehicle, allowing the shoppers a closer look and affording both parties the opportunity to negotiate. The van’s passenger was shopping as well, but he was more interested in the shadowy forms huddled in the dark alleys off the main street than he was in the brightly attired creatures plying their trade among the cruising cars.

  "This ain’t workin’ so good, Pancho," he commented to the driver.

  "Yeah, tell me about it."

  "There’s bums in them alleys, but I can’t tell nothin’ about ‘em. Even if we see one we want, how we gonna get ‘im in the damn van with all these friggin’ hookers watchin’?"

  "Beats me, José," Moraga said, "look for ex-soldiers, like with tats and stuff. Can’t see nothin’ from this far away. We gotta park. Get out and walk through the alleys. Tha’s the only way, ‘mano."

  "Yeah. Le’s do it."

  They managed to find a parking place a few minutes later on one of the back streets a couple of blocks off Collins. Locking the van, they decided to walk back to Collins through a narrow alley. They were picking their way carefully past rubbish containers and large black plastic bags of refuse. The obstacles became more frequent as they got closer to Collins Avenue. Pancho, the driver, stopped suddenly, holding up a hand to signal his intention to his companion, who froze. Both men instinctively dropped to a crouch, reaching for their guns.

  "You see that one?" Pancho asked in a whisper, motioning at a figure sprawled against a dumpster.

  José nodded and turned slowly in a circle, checking to be sure they were alone. "Jus’ us an’ him," he whispered.

  They crept up to the unconscious figure, able to see that he was a man, filthy, wearing only ragged blue jeans. In the soft, yellow glow from the street light 50 yards away, they could make out the tattoo of an eagle, globe, and anchor that spanned the lean, muscular chest, rising and falling with each snoring breath.

  "Is perfect," Pancho said softly. "Marine. Jus’ what
the boss want." He stuck his pistol in the back of his waistband and reached out, grabbing a handful of greasy hair and lifting the man’s head from his chest. They studied the grizzled face. In contrast to the young man’s body to which it was attached, the head looked ancient, the ratty beard clotted with food or vomit, the pupils of the bleary, half-open eyes rolled back so that only the lower edge of the iris showed. "Le’s drag his ass back to the van," Pancho said.

  José, taking a final look around the alley, put his pistol away and bent to help his partner lift their victim. Before José laid hands on him, the ex-marine came to life in a blur of motion. Pancho still had his right hand under the man’s chin. Their erstwhile victim grasped Pancho’s wrist, jerking him forward to extend his arm. The ex-marine’s open left hand flew up, smashing through Pancho’s elbow. Pancho screamed as his elbow snapped, but the pain didn’t stop. His assailant came to his feet, still holding Pancho’s useless arm, and swung Pancho face-first into the dumpster. José had just enough time while this was happening to draw his pistol. Before he could bring it to bear, he was struck from behind with a wine bottle. He settled almost gracefully to the ground, senseless.

  "Nice," said the tattooed man. "I thought you were going to let him shoot me, Jen."

  "You were doing fine. Not sure you even needed my help," the woman said. "We can sell the guns with no trouble. Think these assholes got any money? I’m hungry."

  "I don’t know. Not what I expected. I figured we’d get some wino or a drunk taking a piss on the way to his car, maybe get enough for McDonald’s. You check that one’s pockets. I’ll finish this one."

  ****

  "Relax, houngan," Martinez said. "The zombie will be fine. The professor will see that he’s taken care of. Besides, you’ll soon be busy. Later today, we’ll start back to Martinique. I’ll take you to gather your herbs, and Gomez and the crew will catch the puffer fish for your potion. In a couple of days, Moraga will bring two men for you, and soon, you will have new zombies." Martinez chuckled at the look of dismay on Giscard’s face.

  "It is a terrible thing, señor. I cannot do this thing for no reason. With that one, I had no choice."

  "You had a choice, Giscard. Always, there is a choice for a man. To say that you have no choice is to say you are an animal."

  "Then I choose not to do this, señor."

  "But, Giscard, unlike an animal, a man knows that his choices have consequences."

  Giscard looked at Martinez, waiting. He nodded slowly. "What happens if I do not do this thing? You will hurt me? Kill me?"

  "Those two men that I left with your lovely niece…you remember them?"

  Giscard nodded. "Yes, señor."

  "They are Venezuelan marines. Commandos. The toughest of the tough. The marines in my country, the marines are often men who would otherwise be in prison. One of those men, he is sick. Disgusting."

  "He would not harm Marie. The whole bateye would rise up to protect her."

  "You think so, Giscard? You really believe that? In any case, he would not harm your niece. He doesn’t like women. At least not adult women. He is fond of children. It doesn’t matter whether girls or boys, I think. He likes to make them scream, you see. If he has enough time, he makes them scream without even touching them. Sometimes, they never stop screaming, or they go so far into themselves that they never come back, much like your zombie. But that usually does not happen. Mostly, they recover, except for always being a little nervous. So, maybe you are right. It may be worse to make a zombie than to have some sick man scare your niece’s children. After all, he has plenty of time, so he probably won’t have to do anything so crude as to hurt them physically. What is a little fright to your niece’s children compared to you stealing the soul of some worthless piece of human garbage? You are a man of principles, houngan. I am proud to know such a man."

  Martinez had been watching the houngan while he spoke, seeing the tremor come into his hands, noticing how his eyes darted about, looking everywhere except at his tormentor. He smiled as he observed the houngan’s struggle for control.

  "These men, the ones Moraga will bring…"

  "Yes, houngan. What about them?"

  "You swear to me that they are evil men, men who would harm others?"

  "Of course, houngan. They will be the worst of men. Probably they don’t have souls, already, from the drugs, you know, that they have chosen to take. You will do a service to mankind. I swear this to you houngan."

  "And if I do this, no harm will come to my niece’s children?"

  "I swear that as well, houngan."

  ****

  "There’s a man chained to a large pile of driftwood on the eastern edge of the island, just as you were told," Phillip said. "He might be unconscious – he’s not moving at all."

  "Can he see you, do you think?" Dani asked, switching to speakerphone mode so that the others could hear.

  "I’m not sure. We’ve got the mufflers on, and we’re lined up with the sun, so it wouldn’t be easy for him to spot us. There’s nobody else on either of the islands; no sign of a boat close by, either. There are two out to the west. Clarence is working his way to where we can get a look at them, but we don’t want to get too close. He’s switched out of stealth mode and we’re flying along the coast like sightseers, so we won’t attract attention. Hang on. I’m putting the phone down so I can use the binoculars."

  Phillip picked up the high-powered, optically stabilized glasses and focused on the nearest vessel. After almost a minute of scrutiny, he set them down and picked up the phone.

  "Dani?"

  "I’m here," she said.

  "There’s a big RIB, kind of like the French Customs use for harbor patrol, but it doesn’t have any official markings. It’s around five miles to the west of the islands. Three guys aboard, and it looks like they’re fishing. Engines don’t look to be running, and they’re drifting. Gonna check the next one. It’s a little farther to the west. Hold on."

  Clarence followed the coastline until they were a few miles from what turned out to be a rusty, nondescript freighter. It wasn’t making way, but Phillip couldn’t tell if it was anchored or just drifting. Judging the depth of the water from its lighter color, he concluded that the freighter could be anchored. He couldn’t make out the name, and there was no national ensign visible.

  "I’m back. You still with me?"

  "I’m here."

  "Okay. We’ve got a little interisland freighter about three miles off St. François. He’s either anchored or idling into the wind; no way on. I can’t make out any distinguishing marks. We’re going to stay in the area and keep an eye on both of them, just in case. Otherwise, it looks clear. Give me a call when you’re approaching the anchorage between the islands. If we see anything before then, I’ll call you, okay?"

  Chapter 26

  Moraga started the two outboards and steered at idle speed toward Îles de la Petite Terre, barely able to make out the sails on the horizon. Martinez had called minutes before with a coded radio message, letting him know that Vengeance was approaching the islands. When he was close enough to discern rough details of the vessel with binoculars, he shut down the engines, drifting once again. Giscard watched with curiosity.

  Noticing the houngan’s scrutiny, Moraga said, "We must make certain that your zombie gets on board, houngan. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to him." He laughed at the puzzled expression on Giscard’s face as he kept the glasses trained on the distant yacht, watching as they took in their sails and approached the anchorage between the islands.

  ****

  Dani was at the helm, working Vengeance slowly into the channel, using just enough power from the auxiliary engine to maintain steerage way against the strong current. She kept one eye on the depth sounder and the other on Liz, who was perched on the bow rail, some 10 feet above the sparkling, clear water. Liz’s left hand gripped the headstay and her right shaded her eyes as she peered into the water ahead, on the lookout for coral heads. A few meters ahea
d, the color of the water changed from turquoise to white, indicating much shallower depths. She signaled Dani to stop with her right hand, and as she felt the transmission shift into reverse, she climbed down onto the foredeck and picked up the windlass control.

  As Vengeance began to gain sternway, Liz released the anchor chain, watching the anchor descend through the water and raise a puff of sand when it hit the bottom. She continued to pay out chain, watching the markings on the chain until she was satisfied that they had enough scope to hold securely. She gave Dani another hand signal and heard the engine settle to idle speed as Dani took the transmission out of gear. Liz hooked a length of thin nylon rope to the chain, tying the bitter end off to a cleat on deck. She let out a little more chain, forming a loop of slack chain between the windlass and the hook as the nylon stretched, taking the load. Watching the chain for a moment, seeing it pull tight in front of them, she motioned for Dani to shift into reverse and apply power to dig the anchor in. They both watched to see that the anchor held, and then Dani shut off the engine.

  Liz and Dani launched the dinghy as Lilly and the professor watched, fidgeting. "Come on, Professor. Lilly and Liz can stay aboard. Let’s go," Dani said, scrambling into the bouncing dinghy.

  By the time the professor climbed down into the dinghy, Dani had the outboard running. Liz cast off the bow line, and Dani ran the dinghy up to the beach about 100 meters off Vengeance’s port bow. She eased the bow up onto the sand, killed the engine, and stepped over the side into calf-deep water, the dinghy anchor in her hand. She waded up onto the sandy beach and dug the anchor in as the professor splashed ashore, carrying a pair of bolt cutters from Vengeance’s tool chest.

  Dani pulled a pistol from her waistband. "Stay well behind me until we see what’s what," she said, just above a whisper. "The guy on the beach could be waiting to drop us." She smiled tightly at the worried look that crossed the professor’s face before he nodded his agreement.

  She took off toward the east side of the island, moving in a crouch, taking maximum advantage of the little cover offered by the sparse vegetation and the flat terrain. After a couple of minutes, she was on the south end of the beach. To her left, she saw a large pile of driftwood and flotsam, obviously collected in some recent cleanup effort. She remembered that the tour operators made an effort to keep the accumulation of trash under control, piling it up until there was enough to have a bonfire. During the season they would gather for an evening beach party and burn the trash.