by Scott Cook
“Can any of you men swim?” She asked in a kindly tone.
This question caught the men off guard and five of them raised a hand.
“Do any of you wish to join my vessel or go back with Meraux?” Kate asked.
Two of the men actually raise their hands. They were two who hadn’t indicated they could swim.
“Very well,” Kate said, “Sankey, you and your men and these two former privateers put the rest over the side.”
A chorus of protests arose from the prisoners. Kate stamped her foot for silence.
“The shore is less than a cable’s length,” she said, pointing off the larboard beam. “Your captain is there. You can rejoin him.”
“But I can’t’ swim!” one of the Frenchman gulped.
“Your friends do,” Kate said. “And you ought to have thought of that before attacking this brig and killing my men. Now! Over the side with ya’!”
The five men hustled the remaining five privateers to the larboard rail and promptly pitched them into the calm waters. They cursed and shouted and swore revenge even as the brig left them behind. Kate turned back and already saw that the American built vessel was catching them up.
As the smaller vessel came abeam of the brig, Kate could see Rakes at the tiller, grinning broadly. In his powerful seaman’s voice, Rakes roared out: “Vessel secure, mum!”
“And your prisoners?” Kate called over to the other ship, which now slowed to match their speed fifty feet away and slightly astern.
“They went aswimmin’!” Pallier called out, his comment being joined by shouts and cheers. “Tree cheers for Cap’n Cook!”
The schooner’s new crew let fly with three huzzahs, being joined by the men aboard the brig.
“Very good, Rakes! Well done, all of you!” Kate called out. “We’ll head east until after sunrise. Then we’ll heave to and take stock. Maintain station.”
“Aye, aye, Cap’n!” Rakes bellowed.
Danvers grinned at her, “Give ya’ joy of your prizes, mum.”
Kate looked around at the blood stained deck and back at the beautiful schooner under her lee. She smiled, the tension of the fighting and the last few days seeming to melt away, “By God… we really did it… ain’t it prime!”
11
I arrived at my grandparents’ house in Stuart just before eight in the morning. I’d left Miami before six so that I could get out of the city as well as past Fort Lauderdale before the morning rush hour turned I-95 into a parking lot. I would’ve taken off earlier but didn’t want to arrive too early and disturb Nana. Lisa had offered to come along the previous night, but I said there was no need for both of us. She should stay and spend some quality time with her mom.
My grandparents lived on St. Lucie Boulevard between East Ocean Boulevard and Indian Street not far from the Willoughby Creek Golf and Country Club. Their place was rather modest, an old two-story house probably built sometime in the 1950’s or so. Although small, it was charming and sat on a lot right on the Indian River Lagoon. A one-hundred-foot dock stretched out over the water and ended at a covered T where their sailboat was tied up.
A Key West style white picket fence surrounded the property on three sides and was tastefully decorated with Jasmine and carefully placed Hibiscus plants. A lone palm tree stood vigil in the front yard adding to the tropical feel of the house, which was a mix of white and a very light pink. The house, although tropical in color, had a very Rhode Island feel to it. There were hardwood floors throughout along with granite counters in the kitchen and modern stainless steel appliances. The first floor featured a living room and dining room, the kitchen and a full bath as well as a large Florida room that looked out over the backyard and the water beyond. A set of stairs ran up to the second floor that had two small bedrooms and a bathroom in front of the house. The entire rear of the second floor was taken up by the master suite. This room boasted a huge wall of bay windows that provided an unobstructed and spectacular view of the Indian River Lagoon as well. In addition, both the master bedroom and the living room below had a fireplace.
Nana was already up, sitting in the Florida room sipping her morning coffee. She met me halfway through the living room and we held each other tightly.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
She nodded and sighed, “I’m all right… just worried about your Pops.”
“Any word?” I asked.
“He’s out of surgery,” She said. “The bullet hit him in the shoulder. They say he came through fine, but he’ll be under the drugs until this afternoon, probably.”
I breathed a sigh of relief, “Good… I just don’t understand this… how would anybody know about Catherine Cook’s logs or that map?”
Nana shrugged, “I don’t know. I’m just glad you have it. That’s been in our family for two hundred years.”
I marveled at that for a moment. That my family had something so historically significant and had kept it to themselves all this time. I couldn’t really understand why though.
“I’m more concerned about what they wanted it for,” I said. “While some moldy old logbooks and journals are certainly interesting… it’s hardly worth killing over. That document regarding the Columbian land, however… that’s obviously worth something to somebody.”
“As it turns out,” Nana said. “We might have an answer to that. Why don’t you join us for coffee?”
“Okay… wait… us? Who’s us?”
Nana led me out into the Florida room, which had long ago been a screened porch. A Florida room was a porch that had the lower half of the screens enclosed and the upper half replaced by openable windows. It could be opened in good weather to enjoy fresh air and heated or cooled if desired while still allowing for a semi-outdoor experience.
Sitting on one of the wicker chairs that formed the conversation pit, sipping coffee from a large white mug with a mural of Mystic Seaport on it was none other than Colonel Warner Grayson.
“Oh, Christ…” I muttered as I entered the room.
Grayson grinned and stood up, extending his hand, “Good morning, Commander. How was your drive?”
“Swell,” I said, taking another chair while Nana made me a cup of coffee. “What an amazing coincidence finding you here, Colonel.”
He chuckled, “Indeed. I’m sure you already know why I’m here.”
“Not really,” I stated, taking the offered mug. “You could’ve just called me… why come and brace my grandmother?”
“He’s done nothing of the sort,” Nana said dismissively.
“I wanted to see if she could help us with a description,” Grayson said. “I’m afraid this could be a very serious matter.”
“You’re damned right it is,” I said coldly. “A couple of men break in here and abuse my grandparents and shoot my grandfather? It doesn’t get much more serious than that, Colonel. So if you have some idea of who these assholes were, I’m all ears.”
Grayson sighed, “I have a suspicion. I need you to help me prove it.”
“Uh-huh.”
Nana frowned but said nothing. She was a genteel woman who rarely got angry and who valued good manners. However, I think she was glad that I was willing to play the bad cop role so she didn’t have to.
Grayson sighed, “Remember the canisters of germs aboard the U-boat?”
“Of course,” I said. “I heard that the navy discovered that they’d all broken and the streptococcus had died out after the ship sank.”
Grayson frowned, “Yes… that’s the official word.”
I felt a chill creeping up my spine. Nana’s eyes went wide as well. I leaned forward, “Warner… are you telling me that isn’t the case?”
He nodded grimly, “It’s a cover story. The truth is that when the Navy divers started their salvage operation, they found that sixteen of the twenty canisters were gone.”
“Gone?” Nana asked in confusion.
Grayson sipped his coffee and nodded, “four of them were indeed broken and empty… yet
somebody had gotten there before the navy and had removed the intact canisters. Well… we assume they’re intact. Why take them otherwise?”
“Jesus Christ…” I muttered. “Audrey’s message…”
Grayson’s eyes locked onto mine, “Exactly.”
“Wait… you said you didn’t watch the video,” I commented.
He shrugged, “Sorry… I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable, considering how personal Ariel’s message was. However, considering what was at stake, her telling you that Audrey Lambert had gotten a satellite message out before she died is obviously significant.”
“You’re saying that she connected with her people… whoever she was working for?” I asked, feeling queasy, “and that they found the Ariovistus and got the remaining canisters out before the Navy showed up? How can that be?”
Grayson sighed, “After the incident aboard the Robert Ballard, where the rigid inflatable exploded… the Coast Guard vessel took you back into port. Brody’s ship stayed on station for another day. He dove the Bull Shark and recovered a few things, including Arthur Turner’s logbook. However, it was another week before a Navy salvage vessel with the appropriate equipment to recover the canisters showed up on station.”
“A week…?” I muttered. “And nobody kept their eye on the location?”
Grayson sighed, “It was thought at the time that the less conspicuous we were the better. Only a few people actually knew the coordinates. Two were dead, you could certainly be trusted and I personally spoke with Al-Rajid, Brody and McClay. It was decided that the risk was low and that posting a vessel out there could only draw attention.”
“So somebody got the germs,” I stated. “And we don’t know who or why. So, once again, it was all for nothing… people died, Colonel. At the time, while regrettable, at least we could console ourselves with the knowledge that they died for a good cause. Now you’re telling me that due to some laziness on the part of some bureaucrat or other, that the goddamned flesh-eating bacteria is now in the hands of some unknown group? Jesus H…”
Grayson looked grim, “Not my decision. I wasn’t brought into the loop until the Navy made its discovery. And although we didn’t know who received the canisters back in February, or who Audrey was working for… we have some idea now.”
Nana simply sat back and sipped her coffee. I could tell by the tension in her face that she didn’t like it. She was no stranger to this stuff. She’d married a Navy man and had spent most of their lives dealing with one mission or other. Never quite so personally, I’d have to think, though.
Grayson opened his attaché case and pulled out an eight by ten glossy photo and handed it to me. It was a satellite picture and remarkably clear. It showed a very large yacht, maybe two-hundred feet or more. The yacht was modern-looking, and in the photo, I could clearly see half a dozen people on deck. Some of them near the stern where a low platform held a variety of diving gear and other equipment.
I closed my eyes for a long moment, “Don’t tell me… this yacht is anchored right over my coordinates, right?”
Grayson smiled thinly, “yes… well, it’s actually located over the exact position of the U-boat. No doubt they knew exactly where to anchor thanks to Audrey Lambert’s message.”
I stared at the picture, “Any idea who this ship belongs to?”
Grayson reached out to refill his mug, “We’ve managed to gather a few more pieces of the puzzle and I have a pretty good idea of the chain of custody.”
I drained my own cup and made another, “Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like this?”
Grayson harrumphed, ‘Because I don’t. That vessel is the Terra Viridis. That’s Latin for Green Earth. It’s registered in Panama.”
I groaned, “Oh, Christ… don’t tell me… it’s registered to Andrea or Miles Palmer!”
Grayson nodded, “More specifically, to EcoLife.”
I got up and started to pace, “Okay… so let me get this straight… one of the four hitmen that Audrey Lambert hired was named Ricardo Yashim. Yashim was in Missouri on a student visa to attend college there as a bio-chemist. Audrey Lambert consulted with EcoLife on their green city project in Costa Rica…”
Grayson said nothing. I think he wanted to see if I could put it all together.
“Miles and Andrea both wanted to build their version of Cuidad Verde. One in Costa Rica… the prototype, and the real one in Nicaragua… Miles was funding Manuel Garcia’s rebellion army in exchange for a contract to be allowed to build the thing once he took power. Andrea was in negotiations with the Nicaraguan government to be allowed to build the city there as well. When we found Garcia’s camp, she informs the legal government who swoops in and wipes them out.”
“So far so good,” Grayson stated.
“My word…” Nana breathed.
“But there’s a problem,” I said, turning to face them. “Garcia couldn’t possibly have won. He had a couple of hundred men and a few Jeeps. Even with my friend Clay’s help, he had no chance… so why did he think he did? That’s always bothered me.”
“You want me to tell you?” Grayson asked bemusedly.
I grinned and shook my head, “The only way Garcia could’ve had a chance to beat the established regime is if he had a really big lever… and now you’re telling me that EcoLife’s private yacht salvaged those germs off the U-boat… so were they supposed to go to Garcia? Did they go to Garcia? And does that mean that Miles or Andrea is really behind Audrey’s efforts to find the germs?”
“Incredible…” Nana said. “What a tangled web… and my Scotty figured it all out.”
I chuckled, “Hardly, Nana… because I neither saw nor heard anything about biological weapons when I was down in Central America. If Garcia really had that kind of WMD, wouldn’t he have used it? Or threatened to?”
“It doesn’t’ matter now,” Nana said. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”
I looked at Grayson. The Colonel shook his head, “We can’t confirm Garcia’s status. Based on our intel, there is a good chance he got away.”
“Oh hell…” I muttered. “Even so, though… he couldn’t have had possession of the germs, right?”
Grayson shrugged, “The yacht is registered in Panama and is berthed there. Although privately owned, it’s not owned by either Miles or Andrea. The EcoLife Corporation owns a Panama registered LLC that owns the yacht. And the yacht is enrolled in a charter program when not used by the company.”
“Meaning that anybody could have chartered it to salvage the canisters,’ I stated. “So we don’t know if Andrea or Miles is even aware of any of this… although I find that hard to believe considering that Palmer was funding Garcia…”
“We don’t think he knew about the germs either,” Grayson said. “His plan was clumsy. I honestly don’t know if Garcia even knew about the germs… yet we have reason to suspect he would have sooner or later.”
I rubbed my temples. This was getting complex and some of the connections, those that would lead to some kind of conclusion, were still missing, “Okay, Colonel… that explains Audrey’s actions. Thank God for her grandfather… anyway, what does this have to do with an old family journal? And what does it have to do with Ramon Tavares?”
Grayson’s brows went up, “Tavares?”
I sat and gazed at him, “You didn’t know about that? He hired me because he suspects that one or more of his water born concerns is smuggling drugs into the country. Either his coffee cargo ship or one of his shrimpers. Somebody broke into the safe aboard his yacht last night right about the time that those men broke in here. I do not believe that’s coincidental.”
Grayson actually looked surprised for once. For the first time since I’d met the enigmatic man, I felt I had a piece of information he didn’t. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully and then took a long sip from his mug.
“Colonel?” Nana prodded.
“You have the map and deed to El Dorado?” He asked me.
I nodded.
“And you
think the break in last night on Tavares’ yacht was for that map?” He asked.
I nodded again, “I do, Colonel. Since you seem to know the man’s name, then can I assume you also suspect something is up?”
Grayson shrugged, “We keep tabs on anybody with international dealings. I know a little about Tavares. He’s what he appears to be. A very successful Cuban immigrant with a variety of business concerns. As far as we can tell, he’s honest as well. So if somebody is smuggling drugs, it’s being done without his consent. At least that’s our considered opinion.”
“Well, you should also know that the FBI is sniffing around him, too,” I said.
Grayson nodded, “Not surprised considering what he suspects.”
“Is there anything you can tell me about Tavares?” I asked. “Or Garcia? I still don’t know how these two things connect… or do they?”
“I don’t know,” Grayson admitted, pulling a file folder from his case. “But I’ve had a dossier prepared on Garcia for you. Now that I know about Tavares, I’ll get you what we have on him as well. You can read up on all of this, yet there’s one thing you should know now. Garcia has a brother. Apparently, his father had several children with several different women. Garcia’s mother was a Nicaraguan woman, but his father is from Columbia. He was apparently associated with Manuel Noriega back in the eighties. He’s dead now, but he did have another son with his legal wife and the son carries his name. His name is Antonio Bolivar. We suspect that he too is involved in Columbia’s most profitable export.”
“Hmm…” I pondered. “Okay… that’s interesting… I still don’t see what any of that has to do with my great, great, yadda, yadda, grandmother’s map.”
“We don’t’ know yet,” Grayson said. “That’s what I want you to find out. I know that Tavares hired you, Scott… but now I’m assigning you as point man on this investigation… Commander. I suggest continuing your investigation for Tavares and then calling on whatever assets we have as you need them. Our intel team will keep digging, too.”
