The Missing Taylor

by R C Cameron

  An hour later, Yang, a girl at his arm and two couples disembarked, crossed the parking lot and walked east on the bike trail, towards Barnacle Barney’s, their hangout for tonight we assumed. That was our signal to get into our vehicles. Jennifer covered one end of the parking lot, me, the other. We were expecting the two Asians at any moment but 7, 8 and 9 o’clock came around without they showing up. We kept the discussion going on our expensive, but safe, walkie-talkie units.

  At around 9:30 PM, a cab enters the parking area and stops, lights on, waiting. I hit the push-to-talk button and said: “Heads up, this could be it.” Two Asians, well dressed, walked out of the marina and entered the cab. Within a few seconds, they’re off and the chase is on.

  In my big black FBI-looking SUV, I am the first to follow the cab with a car in-between. Jennifer, in her rented small pickup truck, is trailing. Her choice of transportation fits right in the neighborhood. Mine would be suitable in the Presidential caravan. Having examined the city map during our ice tea period, I turn onto a side street, Jennifer’s pickup just one car off the target. I turn left twice and I’m back on A1A, the main highway linking all the keys together, right down to Key West.

  Half-a-mile later, it’s her turn to bear left, leaving me four cars behind the cab. She rejoins the procession, not long after. A few minutes later, the taxi signals and turns right into a shopping mall occupied by a dozen small businesses. A huge sign reads Big Whale Plaza. I keep going, up to the following street, while Jennifer stops in a parking lot next to the plaza. She radios the information and I make a U-turn and pick a spot across the street, unseen from the people in the cab. The driver brings them to the far end of the lot, in front of a single white one-story building. The two passengers exit the cab and stand around waiting for the driver to leave which he does soon after. A minute later, a small red convertible car arrives, a tall man gets out and all three stand around talking.

  It’s dark now, and no lights are shining at the far end of the parking lot where our guys are standing. The building carries no identification, at least I can see no sign, from my point of view. I ask Jennifer if she can still see any activity, and she replies, “none, they’re just standing there”. I wished I had infrared binoculars but my days in the FBI are over. So I tell Jennifer I’m going in for a closer observation. Without waiting for a response, I get out of the SUV, cross the street and run behind the business center, to the far end, certain they can’t see me. I left the comfort of my car with only a gun in my back holster.

  I run to the end of the shopping mall from the backside and look around the corner. From my vantage point, I can still observe the building’s front side. I now realize our quarry has disappeared. Are they inside? They must be. Asking Jennifer was out of the question, I didn’t bring the walkie-talkie with me, damn. I believe my sub-conscience told me the noise could show my location that’s why it still sits on the passenger front seat.

  On my left, a row of shrubs separates the mall from its neighbor and I plan to use it as a cover. Since no one’s outside the building now, and I can’t really knock on the front door, maybe I can glean some information from the backside. Hidden by the plaza, I walk towards the shrubs, find a hole, and cross over to the other side. Half-crouched now, I run along the natural fence and try to get a sighting towards the back of the property. Through the shrubs, I see light coming from a window. Because the building was dark from the street, I assume the light must originate from a back room. Curious by nature, I want to peek inside.

  I find another opening to cross back through the shrubs and move in silence towards the nearest building corner. Still half-crouched, I get to the window. I look around, it’s eerie quiet. I deploy my body to its full length and, from the corner of the window, look inside. A wall of tablets filled with small boxes appear on either side of the room. It’s unclear what these boxes contain. In the middle, I see three regular-size tables, a few chairs, nothing else. The neon lights inside are all on but I still can’t see anybody. I bend down and move to the other end of the window, same result, I see no living creature inside.

  I’m about to turn around and go back to the safety of my SUV when I hear the words “Hold it right there” as my heart skips a beat.

  (--)

  “Put your hands in the air and turn around, no sudden moves.”

  Stunned, I raise my hands and do as ordered, my eyes are drawn to a large gun in the man’s hand. Shining a flashlight on me, the voice disappears into the darkness, without a glimpse of the person behind the weapon.

  “Mr. Tanner, the man with all the questions. Well, well, what a surprise.”

  “And you are?”

  “Quiet, turn around and put your hands on the wall, spread your feet.” This guy must have watched a lot of police movies. Or he was a retired cop himself. Or someone gave these instructions to him before.

  He frisks me and removes my gun.

  “Stay there!” he tells me as he moves to the rear door past the window I was peering into a moment ago. I turn my head a fraction, and I still see the gun pointed in my direction. He knocks three times and then twice again with a longer beat. Got to be their secret code.

  The door opens, and he signals I should move inside. I look around and not seeing any cavalry to save my butt from this awkward position, I walk towards him, as instructed, my hands still above my head. What did he have in mind for me ? I didn't have a clue, but it wasn't anything nice, I presumed. I thought about Jennifer coming to my rescue but I left my post so quickly, we didn’t have time to make any serious plan. That should be a lesson for me.

  The light inside blinded me for a few seconds. When I peered from outside a few minutes ago, I detected no human presence. Now, I recognized my two Asian friends, smiling. Another individual studied me from a distance, his face was familiar, but I couldn't remember where I had seen him.

  Someone pulls a chair and my captor, signaling with his gun again, hints I should sit on it. After I oblige, he asks that I put my hand behind my back. When I do so, my two Asian captors come behind me and lock my hands with zip ties.

  Someone walks behind me and pulls down the rear window blinds. The silent period is stretching. Finally, the man who held the gun outside now stands right in front of me, empty handed now, his two colleagues on each side of me.

  He walks away and returns with a chair which he places right in front of me. He straddles it and leans his arms on the backrest. He looks me in the eye, but is silent. I’m about to open the discussion myself when he finally speaks.

  “Let’s start with a simple question. Why were you following my two buddies tonight?”

  “I am under orders from my client to locate her missing brother. He was last seen in this area, it’s why I’m here. Now it’s my turn; what are you guys doing here?” I was not expecting fair play, but I tried anyway.

  “I ask the questions, shut up.”

  He continued. “Who would that client be?”

  “Sorry, I am not at liberty to share this information. I signed a non-disclosure.”

  “Tanner, once again, let me remind you, I ask questions and you better answer them, that’s quite a simple process. Otherwise, I will leave you to the professional hands of my two Asian brothers here. They can make you suffer a long time until you die or they can kill you right away. I know for a fact they enjoy the first option better.”

  The two heartless idiots killed William Tudor with a fentanyl-loaded injection to his neck in my opinion. I didn’t want to go through the same fatal experience. I needed to play along until I could find a way out, defer their project.

  “I will answer to your boss, Yang Nelson, only,” I answered.

  A big laugh erupted all around. I turned my head, they were all smiling.

  “What was so funny?” I demanded.

  “Well, Tanner, if you want to know, I may have to kill you after I tell you.”

  I thought about their reaction and their response, and I came to a new conclusion. “I see,
Nelson is just a pawn, you’re the brain of this operation?”

  A smirk appeared on his face. The big laugh was over. I took this for a yes.

  “Nelson is a part of our business and a minority owner of the Black Cat, but in reality, it’s just a gimmick. We need him in that position as it legitimizes our trips down here. But we have to get moving. Nelson is about to return to the ship but we need to be there before he arrives with his guests. As the captain, I’m always in charge. And the second thing is I don’t want to have your body discovered in this neighborhood, it will be bad for business, so let’s move out.”

  One Asian helped me out of the chair with my hands still tied behind me. The other one disappeared through the door leading up front. A minute later, he returned. The captain turned his head towards his colleague returning and that's when I saw it. On his right temple, I saw a tattoo. It was at a fair distance but I could see several dots and a small animal. I had seen this image before, and my memory returned on the double. The morning of our failed raid in Chicago some seven years ago, we were looking to apprehend this asshole. A bomb had been setup to protect his business and harm anyone who would breach the entry. This was a monster quite comfortable killing to protect his assets. All of a sudden, I knew I was in all over my head. If the entire FBI couldn’t apprehend him, what was I doing all by myself against this man.

  We all moved to the back door and waited. A few minutes later, a vehicle arrived. A black panel truck stopped in front of us and we all boarded, the captain in front, me and my two gorillas entered through the back door. I looked at the driver, it was the individual I couldn't place yet. Instructed to sit on the floor, facing away, I hoped Jennifer was still around and would follow me. But deep down, I didn’t believe it.

  After a short drive, we turned into the sandy parking lot at Captain Pip’s marina which I recognized as soon as they extracted me from the panel truck. It was dark, past midnight, and we walked towards the docks leading to the only large yacht moored on site. A few lights illuminated the Ocean Dancer, but only a minimum. One Asian was leading the way, the other still holding my arm like a father escorting his daughter to the chapel. Steiner, the captain, a name I would never forget, was tailing, the black panel gone by now.

  We reached the ship's bow and walked all the way back. Someone got onto the transom platform and opened a door leading, I knew, to the ship's crew quarters all the way back of the boat. Isolated from the guest area, it ensures separation of masters and slaves, in a way. The crew quarters on this ship included a captain’s suite with a full size bed and a shower. For the crew, a separate room with two basic bunk beds and a live-in area including a tiny table, a microwave, a TV and that was just about it. The captain enjoyed a small porthole, the crew lacked this luxury.

  Pushed inside, I bumped on a wall as no light guided my steps. A minute later, someone turned a light on in the cramped space. My guide reached for my arm again and pushed me onto the bottom berth of the bunk beds, my hands still tied behind my back. I rested on my right side, silent, waiting for their next move, I had no choice.

  Steiner walked in and said: “We will finish our conversation later Tanner. For now we have to start our return trip to Miami.” I heard him move upstairs to the galley leaving a single guard with me. The door was then closed, and calm returned to our intimate space.

  My situation was less then enviable, their options multiple. They could kill me right here with a fentanyl injection like William and dump my body in the Atlantic. Or they could transport me to Miami and when everybody left, take care of business. None of these options had my interest in mind.

  Some fifteen minutes later, I heard footsteps topside, guests returning from their outing I assumed. A few minutes later, the engines fired up, the super yacht came alive, and departed on what I imagined was my last trip. My logical mind told me nothing would happen until the guests were out of view. I had a little time ahead. Despite my uncomfortable position, I tried to relax. My daughter entered my thoughts, I then fell into a deep state of sleep.

  CHAPTER TEN

  I WOKE UP from sounds of a door opening above me. A voice was calling my captor who seemed to have fallen asleep while watching me. He slid from behind the table and went upstairs, leaving me alone still tied up. The captain required more hands atop, a sign we were arriving at our destination.

  A few minutes later, engine revolutions slowed down, and the ship started a turn to port. I figured we were coming into either south or north of Fisher Island heading into Miami or the Miami Beach area. In both cases, we were getting closer to land, enough to attempt a swim to shore if I could find a way out of my shackles. The sounds of footsteps aboard showed either the crew preparing for arrival or guests waking up, maybe both. I estimated the time to be around 9 AM, unable to see my watch in my back.

  It was time to leave such a nice ride, but first, I had to get rid of these zip ties holding my hands. An excellent swimmer would still drown without the use of his arms in a coastal sea. I got up and, as I was alone, looked around for a tool or a sharp edge to cut into my handcuffs. I first thought about the table only to discover it had round edges, for safety precautions I guest. Next, I reached for the kitchen drawers looking for a knife. I only found a bunch of white plastic utensils. I then remembered a former FBI colleague who told me once you can break these ties, in your back, by hitting them on your rear end. Not having seen the trick, I had to guess how it worked. I found a spot where I could maneuver and bent down from my waist. As much as possible, I raised my arms and then came down hard on the lower portion of my back, to no avail. A second attempt failed as well. On my third try, I added a movement to open my arms as I was smashing them on my back. To my amazement, it worked and my hands were free. I could now move around in the crew compartment. I picked up the zip ties and examined the clean break, amazing, so I tossed them on the bunk.

  Going upstairs was nonsense, my abductors had guns, they confiscated mine. In front of the guests, they would argue I was a stowaway and tie me up again. The compartment's rear door would take me outside, on the transom platform hidden from the folks above. I would then look for the closest land and make a swim for it. I removed my shoes and shoved them under the table. I wanted to avoid any unnecessary noises and to facilitate my swim.

  Would the captain or the crew be aware if I opened the transom door? These luxury yachts harbored all kinds of electronic sensors and indicators ready to give me away. Would a light blink in the cockpit to show an opened door? I figured it was most probable. As the captain, I would want to know of any abnormal situation aboard, especially one where water could flow in.

  I rushed to the captain’s room and peaked at the only porthole. As I figured, the sun was out already; the swell was minimal, and I was looking south of the entrance between Fisher Island and Miami Beach. I recognized the area, a mile and a half down this way is the Miami Beach Marina where I stayed just a few weeks ago. A jetty protruded to the North and one to the South, I remembered. We were just coming right in between them. If I swam to either one, I would escape. The distance between the two jetties was only a thousand feet. If the ship traveled in the middle, I would have five hundred feet to swim equivalent to three lengths of an Olympic pool. Not much of a challenge.

  Just as I decided on my next move, I heard noise originating from above the steps leading to the upstairs galley. Someone was coming down. I rushed back to the bunk and positioned myself as they left me, on my side, hands in the back. Except now, they were free. A few seconds later, the big Asian peaked into my room. At the same moment, I eyed my old zip ties just resting on the bed. If he looked that way, he would discover the truth. In slow motion, I moved my legs to block his view of the evidence. Would he noticed I was shoeless now?

  I think he spotted my move and came toward the bed to check on me. As he bent to verify what was behind my legs, I reached up, grabbed his dress shirt and pulled as hard as I could. When he felt my hands on him, he straightened up but the pulling for
ce I exerted was stronger and brought his face right on the metal railing of the bed just above me. His nose exploded with blood while his legs disappeared from below him and he fell to the floor, unconscious. The bigger they are .... the harder they fall.

  Worried the noise would bring others to my quarters, I moved to the only door leading to safety and without hesitation, opened it. Even if the captain notice the breach, he would have a limited time to react. I moved onto the rear platform and looked left, then right; the jetty was closer on the North side because the yacht held a starboard course in case of crossing another vessel’s path. This would give me a shorter swim to shore. Also, coming toward us, was a large cruise ship leaving Miami on its way to some fancy destination. But one thing I knew for certain, it would cross our path soon and I did not want to get caught in its wake.

  I filled my lungs with air, dived in the warm waters and headed toward shore, away from the cruise ship. I stayed under water as long as I could. When I emerged, I took another deep breath again and returned immediately underwater. When I surfaced next, I turned around to look at the Ocean Dancer. The sound of its engines and the water movement at the rear told me the captain had put the ship in full reverse. He could not catch up as I was already in shallow waters and out of reach of the big yacht. I aimed for the jetty and swam as fast as I could in my best high school freestyle stroke.

  Once at the jetty, I climbed the large rocks and looked back at the yacht, now idle in the canal. A bunch of people gazed my way; some knew why I had done this, others were clueless.

  (--)

  I traveled to the mainland after walking the uneven jetty and its large rocks, still shoeless. I reached the South Point pier where I met Jeff Mason some time ago. I now needed a few things; a pair of shoes, a phone to reach Jennifer and a new plan. In my pockets, some wet paper money and dryer credit cards along with my car keys, I could manage.