Killers and Keepers Page 8

The doors were unlocked, so I went inside and found a light switch. The cabin was a pigpen — crusty dishes, dirty clothes, and the funky smell of lots of weed having been smoked. Wrinkling my nose and trying not to inhale, I opened the door into the forward cabin, turning on another light. Most of the space in there was occupied by a queen-size bed.

  Two girls were on the bed, their wrists and ankles taped together with duct tape. They were wearing torn T-shirts and not much else that I could see. Both were gagged, and they had nooses around their necks that tethered them to the head of the bed. One appeared to be unconscious. The other one was trying to scoot herself up to a sitting position against the head of the bed, peering at me through eyes swollen to slits. She must have been kicking the bulkhead, trying to attract attention.

  She flinched as I reached toward her. "I'm going to undo the gag. I won't hurt you; let's get you out of here."

  She nodded and turned her head so I could get to the knot on the gag. I loosened it and worked the filthy rag away from her mouth.

  "Hurry. They'll be back soon." Her voice was hoarse.

  "Okay. You're going to be fine. I need to get a knife to cut you free, but I'll be right back."

  "Knives are in the galley," she said, clearing her throat.

  "Okay." I turned toward the galley and saw Mary come through the sliding door, a folding combat knife open in her hand.

  "I got worried," she said.

  "Glad you're here. Did you tie the boats together?"

  "Just one line, loose. Storm's over; we've drifted a few feet apart. We can use it to pull the boats back together."

  Following me back into the forward cabin, she asked, "What the hell?"

  "Cut her loose." I gestured to the conscious girl, who was trying to untie the noose around her neck, even with her hands bound together. "I'll get the gag off this one."

  "They just went ashore to eat. He'll kill us all," the girl said, as Mary cut the tape at her wrists and ankles.

  "Don't bet on that," Mary said, cutting the noose from around her neck. "Can you walk?"

  "Yeah, I think so. I've been tied up for a long time, though."

  "I'll help you."

  Mary handed me the knife and put an arm around the girl, supporting her as she hobbled out into the cockpit. I cut the unconscious one free and folded the knife closed. After I put it in my pocket, I picked the girl up and carried her into the cockpit.

  Mary pulled the two boats together and tied them temporarily while she helped the first girl climb aboard Island Dream. She turned to help me with the other one. I lifted the girl enough so we could slide her under the lifelines, and Mary scrambled up and guided the girl's dead weight onto Island Dream's side deck.

  "Any idea what's going on?" she asked, studying the unconscious girl's battered face.

  "They were taking us to Antigua to sell us," the first one said. "But they're just ashore eating dinner, and they've got guns."

  "We'll slow them down a little," I said. "Don't worry. We can handle them."

  "Did my father send you?" she asked.

  "Your father?" Mary asked. "No. The anchor dragged in the storm, and it hit us."

  "I felt us bump into you; that's why I started kicking the wall."

  "I see," Mary said. "You're hoarse. Go below and get a drink of water while we get out of here."

  The girl nodded and went down the companionway ladder. I retrieved the folding knife and went up on the bow of the powerboat. Relieved to see that the anchor rode was three-strand nylon line instead of chain, I squatted down and cut through it. The bow of the boat swung away from Island Dream, pushed by the ten-knot breeze.

  Hustling back to the cockpit, I untied the line Mary secured to the powerboat's stern cleat and climbed aboard Island Dream. As I pulled the dock line aboard, I said, "Fire up the diesel and I'll get the anchor."

  Mary bent to the instrument panel and started the engine.

  "What about her?" She nodded at the unconscious girl on the side deck.

  "We'll move her below once we're under way. She'll be okay for a minute. Take the helm and let's get the anchor in. We'll tow the dinghy for now."

  By the time we retrieved the anchor and turned the boat around, the powerboat drifted a couple of hundred yards downwind, almost out of the harbor. With the light wind close to shore, the boat was drifting at around two knots. Once it was out of the protection of land, the wind would pick up. The boat could be a few miles offshore by the time her crew finished dinner.

  If we were lucky enough that nobody saw what happened, we would be long gone before the girls' captors recovered their boat and came after us. We needed all the head start we could get, though. Our top speed was five or six knots; that powerboat would probably top out at ten times that.

  10

  "They're both asleep," Mary said, her voice soft as she came up into the cockpit.

  She squeezed in behind the helm, sitting a few inches from me. I put my arm around her shoulders, but she shrugged it off and shifted her position, putting another couple of inches between us. I was puzzled by that, but I didn't say anything, opting to let her have her space. She would eventually let me know what was bothering her, or she would get over it and pretend it didn't happen.

  We left Deshaies an hour and a half earlier, pausing to take the outboard off the dinghy and bring it aboard before we got into the rougher water offshore. At the moment, we were about ten miles west of Guadeloupe, having sailed a course which gave us the best speed.

  Just before Mary came up, I took up a more southerly course, planning to head for Les Saintes. The girl who was unconscious had come to as we were struggling to get her below deck earlier. Mary had been below getting them settled until just now.

  "Learn anything from them?" I asked. She shrugged and didn't say anything for several long seconds.

  "A little; not much." She finally broke the silence. "They were scared and hungry; said they hadn't eaten in over a day. I scrambled eggs and made toast. They scarfed it down and crashed. While I was cooking, they talked, or at least the one who was conscious when you found them did. The other one doesn't speak much English. Lucinda — turns out she's from Venezuela, by way of Trinidad. She was an illegal immigrant there, as best we could make out. That's where she was picked up by those two scumbags."

  "Where's the other one from?"

  "Margie's her name. They snatched her in Saint Vincent. She thinks her father's probably looking for her, with a bunch of 'his men,' as she called them. He owns an inter-island freight company, with several small freighters. Sounds well-off; he's got a 60-foot custom built ocean racer — a super-fast boat, she said. She's sure he's searching for Seaduction; he may even know the boat. She thinks it may belong to one of his competitors. It's been around St. Vincent a lot for the last two weeks. My guess is her father's a drug runner, just from her reluctance to say much about him and his employees."

  "That wouldn't be a surprise, based on what you just told me. Especially if St. Vincent's home. She should try calling him," I said.

  "There's no cell service. I didn't think using the VHF radio was a good idea."

  "No, not now, anyway. Best to stay off the radio; the guys on Seaduction could hear us. We'll find cell service again when we're closer to the Saintes. If nobody's on our tail by then, I'm planning on stopping there to clear out of Guadeloupe. If we do it there, we won't have to show papers for Lucinda and Margie. They're pretty laid back about it there. Is St. Vincent her home?"

  "She said it is; they live out in the sticks in the northern part of the island on what was once her father's family's sugar plantation, back in the colonial days. Everything points to her being a spoiled, rich brat."

  "Uh-huh," I said. "Could be her father's growing weed, not just shipping it. How did she end up with those two bastards?"

  "She was out with friends at a nightclub, and the next thing she knew, she woke up on the boat with those two. She thinks they must have slipped something in her drink. Lucinda was already
tied up in the cabin when she came to. The men beat both of them and took turns with them while they were on their way to Guadeloupe. Told them to learn to like it, because that's how they would earn their keep from now on. She overheard them talking to somebody on their cellphone. That's how she knew they were headed for Antigua. They were supposed to pick up more girls from somebody in Guadeloupe tomorrow before they left. And that's about all I got from them before they crashed."

  "What do you think we should do?"

  Mary looked at me, scowling. "You're asking me?"

  "Yes."

  "Do about what? Don't ask me; you got us into this mess."

  "Me?" I asked.

  "You're the one who decided to rescue them."

  "What were we supposed to do? Leave them there with those animals?"

  "That would have been an option, but it's too late now. What possessed you to do this?"

  "I can't believe we're having this conversation." I knew that wasn't the right thing to say, but I was trying to recover from my shock at Mary's comment.

  "How long do you figure we have?" Mary asked, after another prolonged silence.

  I hesitated a second, trying to decide whether she meant to change the subject or if I missed something.

  "Before they come after us," she said. "You know they will."

  I shrugged. "Hard to guess. They went ashore when they arrived. We were asleep for what? Maybe an hour, an hour and a half after that?"

  "Yes. So, they would have been finishing dinner about the time the storm hit, you think?"

  "That's reasonable. Maybe they waited for the weather to clear, but as soon as they stepped on the dock, they would have noticed their boat wasn't where they left it. Figure it took 'em a few minutes to see that it wasn't in the anchorage. Then they would have guessed it was drifting downwind. Let's say they were lucky; they could have found it in 15 or 20 minutes. But they would still have to know to look for us."

  "They have radar; I saw the antenna. There's not much traffic out here this time of night. Not this far out. Freighters and a few diehard sailors. That boat could cover a lot of ground in a hurry."

  "Yes, but we don't even know if they'll come after us."

  "Get serious, Finn. They're trafficking women; we just made off with several thousand dollars' worth of their cargo. They're pissed off. Macho bastards, no doubt. They'll be out to teach us a lesson. Not to mention the possibility that we might report them. They'll come after us."

  "You sound pretty sure of that."

  "Yeah. I've been there. Shitheads like them don't let go; trust me. Too bad you didn't think this through. We didn't need more trouble."

  There she was again; she came full circle. I still couldn't believe she would have left two young girls in the hands of traffickers.

  "They're about my daughter's age, Mary. I couldn't just leave them."

  "No?"

  "No."

  "Okay, Sir Galahad. Too bad you didn't find me a few years ago. Nobody gave a shit when I was in their situation. I survived. They could have, too."

  "I don't — "

  "Just skip it, Finn. Here they come." She was looking behind us.

  I glanced over my shoulder and saw running lights about a mile back, closing fast.

  "How do you want to play this?" Mary asked. "She said they were armed. Too bad you had to ditch the pistols and the AR-15 we took off those guys in St. Martin."

  "There are only two of them," I said. "I'll go below. You pretend to be a solo sailor. Tell 'em there's nobody else here; offer to let them search the cabin if they want. I'll take it from there."

  "Sure, hero. Use me for bait. That's all women are good for." She shook her head. "Go on, then. Get out of sight. Men!"

  I rose to a crouch and slipped down the companionway, picking up a winch handle on my way. I was puzzled by Mary's attitude; this side of her personality was new. Given her own rough childhood and adolescence, I was surprised she wasn't more sympathetic. Oh, well. No time for that now. We'll deal with it later.

  At the foot of the companionway ladder, I leaned over the chart table and opened the porthole there. Just in case they came along the port side, I turned around and opened the porthole over the galley. Then I backed into the narrow space on the starboard side of the ladder. Facing forward, I dropped to a crouch, wedging myself between the engine box on my left and the nav station seat on my right. Our foul weather gear hung on the bulkhead behind me. I reached back and pulled the tail of one jacket around to cover my head and face, trusting that the shadows would hide the rest of my body.

  I was no sooner in position than I heard the droning sound of two high-performance diesel engines. The beam of a brilliant spotlight came through the companionway as the engines were throttled down to idle speed. The boat's wake overtook us as it came close alongside, rocking Island Dream with a violent fore-and-aft motion as a man's voice boomed from a loud hailer.

  "Hey, Island Dream, stop yo' boat, bitch. You got somethin' b'longs to us."

  "What?" Mary yelled. "I don't know — "

  The crack of a large caliber handgun cut her off.

  "Nex' one, I shoot you. I said stop the boat. Now!"

  "I'm turning up into the wind," Mary yelled. "Don't shoot, please."

  I felt Island Dream's motion change as the sails began to flog. There was the sound of the powerboat's transmission engaging, and the pitch of the twin diesels rose slightly as Seaduction came along our starboard side. I heard and felt a thud as someone jumped down onto our side deck.

  "You look pretty good for an old broad."

  "Don't shoot me, please," Mary said. "I'll do whatever you say."

  "Mm," the man said. "Tha's the spirit, bitch. Too bad we in a hurry. Maybe I take you wit' us."

  "Cut the shit, Joey," another man yelled. "We want the girls, bitch. We deal wit' you in a minute. You got anybody wit' you besides them two little whores?"

  "No. Just me. They said they — "

  "Shut up. Go below an' get 'em, Joey. I'll cover this one. You keep yo' han's on the helm, bitch, or I blow you away."

  "They're in the forward cabin," Mary said. "I'm really sorry I — "

  "Shut up!" Joey said, as he mounted the companionway ladder.

  I let him take two steps forward before I lurched to my feet and swung the heavy bronze winch handle. It landed on the side of his head with a sickening crunch, and he dropped in his tracks. As he convulsed, I relieved him of his pistol and moved to the portlight over the chart table. I had a clear shot at the burly man who was aiming a pistol at Mary.

  I took a deep breath and started squeezing the trigger, raising and lowering my pistol with the motion of the boat to hold the sights on the center of his chest. The pistol barked and the man staggered back, surprise on his face. I put another round in his chest before he collapsed.

  Playing it safe, I moved to the one I clobbered and felt for a pulse. He was dead; we were safe for the moment. I tucked the pistol in the waistband of my shorts and climbed into the cockpit.

  "You okay?" I asked.

  Mary nodded. "Yeah. Doing just fine, for an old broad. What now?"

  "Keep us a few yards off their port side while I drag this guy up on deck."

  "Okay."

  I grabbed a dock line and went back below. I passed the line around my victim's chest twice and tied it off with a little slack. I worked the first loop up under his armpits and went back on deck. Making my way to the mast, I freed a spare halyard and took the shackle back below. I hooked it to the loose loop of dock line and went back up on deck.

  I wrapped a few turns of the halyard around an unused winch and took up the slack. Then I stuck a handle in the winch and cranked until the dead man lodged against the forward edge of the companionway opening.

  "Grab the tail end of that dock line around his chest and let's swing him over the side. I'll hold him there while you cut the dock line."

  "Got it," Mary said.

  In a few seconds, Joey's body was flo
ating face down between the two boats. I stowed the spare halyard and considered what to do about Seaduction.

  "Should we sink it or leave it?" Mary asked.

  "I vote for sinking it. We don't know if they told anybody they were coming after us. It would be better not to leave evidence behind, don't you think?"

  "I agree. Too bad it's diesel-powered," Mary said. "Gasoline would explode with a little help."

  "Maybe there's propane aboard. Fire up the engine and take me in close enough so I can jump onto their swim platform, then back off."

  I went up to our bow and stepped over the lifelines, poised on the outside of our bow pulpit. When we were close enough, I jumped.

  In Seaduction's cockpit sole, I found a propane locker with two 20-pound cylinders. One was connected to the propane system; the other was spare. I went to the helm and shut off the two diesels.

  Returning to the propane locker, I closed the valve on the tank that was in use and cut the hose attached to it, leaving a couple of feet attached to the valve. I lifted the tank out and set it on the cockpit sole.

  Opening the nearby engine compartment access hatch, I lowered the propane tank until it was resting on top of one of the engines. Making sure the propane hose was inside the engine compartment, I opened the valve on the top of the tank. The propane hissed into the engine compartment. Being denser than air, it would settle into the depths of the bilge.

  I went back to the stern platform and waved Mary over. When Island Dream's bow pulpit was in reach, I caught it and hoisted myself aboard.

  "Propane?" Mary asked.

  "Yes. I just need to get — "

  "The flare gun," Mary said, handing it to me with a bandolier of seven-second aerial flares. "Ready for me to take us in?"

  "Sure," I said, loading a flare into the pistol. "But let's not get too close. These things have a range of 500 feet, but the accuracy stinks. Hold us off about 200 feet and let's see if I can score a hit. If not, move in a little closer."

  "Got it, sailor."

  I went back up to the bow pulpit as Mary edged us closer to Seaduction. I held the flare gun, guessing at my aim. When I couldn't stand to get any closer, I pulled the trigger. The flare sailed in an arc that took it over our target by about 50 feet.