Sins in the Sun: A Vigilante Series crime thriller

by Claude Bouchard

  “Oliver, what did he say?” Chris repeated more forcefully.

  Oliver looked up at Chris and said, “He wants me to go see him. He kidnapped them to make sure I will come.”

  “Did he say where?” Chris persisted. “Did he tell you where to go?”

  “He will contact me later with details,” Oliver replied. “He knows about all of you and he wants me to go alone so he will be arranging my travel plans.”

  “There’s no way you’re going alone, buddy,” said Chris. “He’ll kill you, all three of you.”

  “If I don’t do what he says, my wife and child will pay for it,” said Oliver. “I’m sure of that. I have no choice.”

  “Do you honestly think we would do anything to put Val or Isabella in any more danger than they are?” asked Chris, not waiting for an answer. “Of course not. If Gomez wants to play this game, fine. It will simply make it easier for us to find him, your wife and your daughter. You will do as he asks and you will lead us to him. You will be in danger and, for that, I agree you have no choice. Past that, your choices are suicide or eliminating the bastard and I simply will not let you opt for suicide. None of us will.”

  * * * *

  Los Melones, Dominican Republic, 7:19 p.m.

  All things considered, the afternoon had not been the terrorizing hell Valeria had been expecting. The fact remained that she and her daughter were being held captive but they had not been badly treated. Following the call to Oliver, Gomez had mentioned there was food in the refrigerator and invited anyone who was hungry to help themselves before heading outside with Leandro. The two other men, apparently having relinquished the captives to Hector, had grabbed a couple of beers and disappeared.

  Under Hector’s discreet but watchful eye, Valeria had prepared lunch for herself and Isabella while her daughter had shyly played silent variations of peekaboo with the big man. Once the meal was ready, chicken sandwiches, potato chips and, much to the three year old’s delight, Coca-Cola, Hector, who had been doing his best to remain stoic, had suggested they might want to eat at the picnic table out back. Valeria had agreed and they had gone out to settle in the shade where Isabella had shared her attention equally between eating and waving at Hector who sauntered about as he kept an eye on them. Though he managed to seem indifferent some of the time, he certainly wasn’t oblivious to the child’s advances and Valeria had noticed him smiling or waving back on a few occasions.

  Following their meal, Hector had permitted them to play in the yard, even finding a bright red toy soccer ball for them under the rickety porch for which Isabella had thanked him profusely. Shortly after, the three year old had managed to make him rather uncomfortable, inviting him to play with them and forcing him to come up with a convincing reason as to why he couldn’t. Isabella, with her mother’s coaxing, had accepted his ‘hurt knee’ story but had insisted he watch her when she kicked the ball.

  When Valeria had determined Isabella was due for a nap, Hector had shown them to a small room furnished with a single bed and an old wooden rocking chair. The door would be locked, he had informed Valeria, but he would be outside near the window should they need something or wish to get out. Isabella had bade him good night when he had left the room.

  Valeria had laid on the bed with her daughter, her intention to simply continue soothing and comforting the little one until she dozed off. However, mother and child had soon been sleeping, likely still dealing with some of the effects of the sedative they had been injected with that morning.

  Hector had returned as the sun was setting with a small table on which were two plates of rather edible rice, red beans and pork. After waking them, he had informed Valeria they should eat if they were hungry as they would be leaving the house in half an hour. True to his word, he had returned thirty minutes later to escort them back to the mini-van where Leandro waited behind the wheel while Gomez occupied the passenger seat. Once Valeria and Isabella had climbed in the rear through the open hatch, Hector had closed it before getting in by the side sliding door, sitting sideways on the middle seat to keep an eye on the captives. However, as soon as he had taken his seat, Isabella had begun clamoring, insisting he sit with her on the floor. Gomez had quickly intervened, ordering Hector to comply with the child’s request, if only to get her to remain quiet.

  The drive had not been a long one, perhaps ten minutes heading east and south through the quieter back streets of the small town of Los Melones. Reaching the waterfront on the edge of town, they continued south past a baseball field before veering off the road, their destination a small beach within a sheltered inlet where a thirty-five foot catamaran waited at anchor some sixty yards away. Five men could be seen on deck while another waited on the beach by a flat-bottom skiff.

  “Where are we going?” asked Valeria as they climbed out of the van, not expecting an answer.

  “Isla Saona,” Gomez replied promptly.

  “Why are we going there?” Valeria persisted, taking advantage of Gomez’s apparent willingness to share.

  “Seclusion,” said Gomez as the group moved to the skiff. “Only three hundred people live on the island, all at Mano Juan which is over ten miles from where we’re going. Nobody will know we’re there.”

  “But why are you doing this?” Valeria demanded. “We did nothing to you and neither did my husband. Why can’t you let us be?”

  “Enough with your questions,” Gomez snapped. “Get on the boat. You’re wasting our time.”

  Not pushing her luck, Valeria fell silent and carefully climbed into the boat, accepting Hector’s steadying hand while she clutched Isabella firmly to her chest. Once she was seated, Gomez followed while their pilot, the catamaran’s first mate, waded alongside the skiff and hopped into the rear by the outboard motor. With Leandro’s help, Hector pushed the boat off the sand, jumping into the bow while Leandro stepped back and returned to the mini-van, his work done for the day.

  The outboard started up and the skiff backed away from the beach then slowly began to veer, its pilot mindful of the rocky outcrops on either side below. Once the one hundred eighty degree turn was complete, the first mate pushed the skiff forward, opening up the throttle to quickly cover the distance to the waiting catamaran. Assisted by the men on board, the passengers transferred to the larger boat where Hector pointed Valeria and Isabella to a sitting area on the covered portion of the deck while Gomez went straight to Felipe, the captain.

  “That’s it for now,” he said. “Let’s get going.”

  “Hola to you as well, Señor Gomez,” the burly captain replied with a wink.

  “Don’t test my patience, Felipe,” Gomez growled. “They have already started putting my face up on television as a wanted fugitive. I don’t wish to sit out in the open any longer than necessary.”

  Felipe gestured to the rear of the catamaran where his first mate and another man were busy hoisting the skiff up with hand-winches and said, “Unless you plan to swim ashore with your hostages, we will need that boat later.”

  “Well, get moving as soon as possible,” Gomez replied in frustration, “And keep your eyes open for patrols.”

  Felipe chuckled and said, “I will do my best to avoid them. Seriously, we will be sailing the channel between the mainland and the island where the water is not deep enough in many areas for most patrol boats. Once we get there, we should be fine.”

  “Make it happen,” Gomez insisted. “That is why I am paying you a fortune.”

  Felipe scowled. “As of right now, I am an accomplice to your crimes, my friend. If we get caught, I will be sitting in prison beside you. That is why you are paying me a fortune. As you said so well a moment ago, don’t test my patience either.”

  A shout from the back informed Felipe the skiff was secure and he powered up the diesel engine. With a fierce look still in his eye, he said, “We’re on our way, Pedro. Go help yourself to a couple of drinks on me while I do the job for which you are paying me a fortune.”

  * * * *

 
; Ventura Grande Resort, Puerto Plata, Dominican Republic, 8:02 p.m.

  Ortega ceased his pacing as he cut the connection on his mobile and hurried over to Chris and the others.

  “I have just heard from Claro, the provider for Valeria’s mobile,” he announced, looking excited. “They are trying to pinpoint it more closely but the call made this afternoon originated from near San Rafael de Yuma, a municipality in the province of La Altagracia.”

  “But that’s at the other end of the country,” Oliver exclaimed.

  “Yes, it is,” Ortega agreed, “And the amount of time which went by between when your wife left here this morning and when the call was made would be enough to drive the distance.”

  “Would the area make any sense for Gomez to decide to head there?” Leslie asked.

  “I think it does,” Ortega confirmed. “It is not a densely populated area. It would be easy to find many secluded spots, especially for a man with connections and money like Gomez.”

  “Does Gomez have any resorts in the area?” asked Dave.

  “He has one in La Romana which is close enough,” Ortega replied, “And another in Punta Cana, about forty-five minutes away. However, if you’re suggesting he may be hiding out at either place, all of his resorts have been closed by court order following the raid at Paraíso de Ángeles on Thursday. There is police or military presence at each establishment so, no, Gomez would not go there.”

  “Waiting and doing nothing is driving me crazy,” said Oliver. “Perhaps I should get in the car and head down there. When Gomez contacts me, I’ll be that much closer.”

  “You’ll also be telling him you know or suspect where he is,” said Chris, “Which will likely urge him to move elsewhere and could put Val and Isabella in danger. If anybody heads down there, it’ll be some of us. Jon and I can be there in an hour with the plane while Leslie and Dave keep an eye on you as much as possible.”

  “Where are we going?” asked Jonathan, walking in on the conversation, having just returned from a trip to the plane to pick up some needed equipment.

  “East of La Romana,” said Chris, proceeding to bring him up to speed.

  “I would wait to see if we can get additional confirmation that he’s still out there,” said Jonathan. “Calls to Oliver’s phone will be traced, Miguel?”

  “Yes, “Ortega confirmed, “And Valeria’s phone is being monitored as well so if it’s turned on again, it will be tracked.”

  Jonathan nodded and looked at Chris. “Like you mentioned, we can be there in an hour with the plane. I’d hate to fly there now only to find out they’ve gone somewhere else. It’s been over six hours since Gomez called. You can cover a lot of ground in six hours.”

  “I will alert some of my key men in La Romana,” Ortega suggested, “So we will have some people on the ground in case of emergency.”

  Already typing on his laptop as he spoke, Admiral Quesada added, “I am sending in an order to increase and concentrate shore patrols around the southeast sector of La Altagracia until further notice.”

  “Thank you, gentlemen,” said Chris before turning to Jonathan. “We’ll wait. In the meantime, let’s get Oliver set up and then I suggest we try to get a bit of sleep.”

  “Set me up with what?” asked Oliver.

  “Tracking devices,” Jonathan replied, pulling a small plastic case from his shirt pocket. “If we lose you along the way, we want to be sure we know where you are and I have the perfect device for the occasion.”

  He opened the case and held it out for Oliver to see.

  “Hearing aids?” said Oliver, looking puzzled. “My hearing is fine.”

  “Pretend it isn’t,” said Chris. “I don’t know what Gomez is planning but if he doesn’t want you followed, he’ll have you checked for a tracking device along the way. There’s a better chance you’ll be allowed to hang on to your hearing aids than a microchip in your shoe.”

  “I should be able to pretend I’m deaf,” said Oliver, managing his first smile in hours. “Valeria often asks me if I am.”

  * * * *

  Isla Saona, Dominican Republic, 11:54 p.m.

  Despite Gomez’s frustration, impatience and incessant urging, the twenty-one mile catamaran trek from Los Melones to the east end of Isla Saona had taken almost three hours. Piloting without lights, Felipe had kept the boat hugged to the shore while keeping a close eye on the radar for possible Coast Guard patrols. Once into the channel separating the island from the mainland, their speed had regularly been reduced to barely a couple of knots as Felipe almost blindly maneuvered his craft to avoid the jagged reefs, sometimes hiding mere inches beneath the surface of the shallow waters.

  Upon reaching their destination, several trips in the twelve foot skiff had been required to transport supplies as well as Gomez, Hector, their two captives and four hired men who would be calling the island home for a yet to be determined period. While Felipe and his first mate sailed off, their work done for the night, the men on the island had begun their tasks for the evening, lugging the supplies and equipment well away from shore and into the jungle followed by setting up camp.

  “Everything is done, Señor,” announced Vasco, the leader of the hired foursome, as he approached the edge of the clearing where Gomez and Hector chatted while Valeria sat in a camping chair, her sleeping daughter in her lap.

  “Very well,” Gomez replied, scowling as he glanced at the time. “I want two of you keeping watch at all times until morning. You are to inform me, or Hector, of anything out of the ordinary.”

  “Si, Señor,” Vasco acknowledged.

  “And tell your men I expect them to patrol once in a while,” Gomez added, venting his frustration anywhere he could. “They won’t see much if they’re sleeping in a chair.”

  “I will tell them,” Vasco replied then turned and walked off, putting an end to Gomez’s ranting.

  “May I put my daughter to bed?” Valeria asked quietly.

  “Of course,” Gomez replied, smiling as he turned to Hector. “Please show our guests to their quarters.”

  Grateful, and happy to get away from Gomez, Valeria rose from her seat, being careful not to wake Isabella, and followed Hector to one of the four twelve by twelve foot camping tents. Upon entering, she immediately saw the four by eight foot cage standing five feet high along the back wall.

  Shrugging, she said, “At least we get a mattress, a blanket, pillows and a bucket. It's sad that my three year old and I will sleep locked up in a cage while you animals roam free.”

  “I am sorry,” said Hector, avoiding her gaze.

  "Of course you are,” Valeria snapped. “I suppose you'll cry when you kill us too. Lock us up and get out of here."

  Not waiting for, nor expecting a response, she went to the cage and crouched through the open door. As she laid her still sleeping daughter down and tucked her in, the door closed behind her followed by the distinctive click of a lock. When she turned to look behind her a moment later, Hector was gone.

  Chapter 14 – Sunday, December 21, 2014

  Isla Saona, Dominican Republic, 12:47 a.m.

  “Give me one more,” said Gomez, holding out his empty cup. “After this one, I’ll call my friend, Oliver, and then we can try to get some sleep.”

  Picking up the bottle of rum from the ground where they sat away from the tents, Hector poured another healthy shot into the proffered cup before adding more to his own.

  “I’m wondering,” he said, hesitantly to start before going on, “If we’re not wasting our time with what we’re doing.”

  “What do you mean?” Gomez demanded, eyeing his subordinate intently.

  “Perhaps we should be concentrating on disappearing,” Hector replied. “The longer we stay here, waiting for Lomas to show up, the greater the risk of being found. The police, and the navy, are searching for us right now. They would have less chance to find us if we were in Jamaica or in the islands. What I mean is, is Lomas really worth it?”

  “We are in this
position because of him,” Gomez hissed. “If he had minded his own business, all would be fine. Unfortunately, he decided to declare war against me, but not like a man, more like a coward, sending liars and hypocrites to fight his battles. He must pay for what he has done and I will only be satisfied when I kill him as he grieves over the deaths of his wife and child. You understand what must be done, yes, Hector?”

  Hector gazed at Gomez and nodded. “Yes, I understand what must be done.”

  “Good,” Gomez curtly replied. “Get me a phone. It is time for the bastard to begin his travels.”

  “Do you want to use his wife’s phone again?” asked Hector.

  “No, they are surely tracking it by now,” said Gomez. “Get one of the throwaway phones Leandro brought us.”

  * * * *

  Ventura Grande Resort, Puerto Plata, Dominican Republic, 1:02 a.m.

  “Yes,” said Oliver, his mobile on speakerphone.

  “Good morning, Ollie,” Gomez replied. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Oliver demanded.

  “Ah, you don’t want to waste my time,” said Gomez. “I appreciate that since I shouldn’t keep this call going for too long. Here’s what you’ll do immediately after our chat. You will go to your car, leave the hotel and head for home –”

  “How do you know where I am?” Oliver interrupted.

  “Don’t ask stupid questions,” said Gomez. “Just do as I say. Once you have left, you will receive a call with further instructions. I suggest you obey them if you want to see your lovely wife and daughter again.”

  “You just—” Oliver began to say then realized they were no longer connected. Looking up at the others, he said, “It’s time.”

  * * * *

  Isla Saona, Dominican Republic, 1:06 a.m.

  “He’ll be leaving the resort in the next few minutes,” Gomez announced.