West of the Quator

by Cheryl Bartlam DuBois

  “What’s going on Joey? Who are these guys?” Rob asked a little unnerved – assuming this was the other side of the drug ring – the American team.

  Just then Alex stepped out of the deckhouse with a bottle of champagne and a stack of paper cups in her hand.

  “We never opened that champagne Rob… I think it’s time to finally celebrate the fact that we’re even alive —” Alex said coming up short as she looked up to find Joey standing there smiling at her.

  “Alex!” cried Joey enthusiastically as he stepped down into the cockpit to give her a kiss on either cheek and a warm, sincere hug – leaving his thugs standing at attention on deck. “I was relieved to hear Rob had hired you to take care of my baby, he’s a smart man… not much of a sailor though I hear,” Joey said laughing.

  “Actually, it was Rob that saved your boat in the hurricane as well as my life,” said Alex proudly as she looked up at Rob and smiled, uncertain of their fate now that Joey had returned.

  “What’s going on Joey… where’ve you been?” demand Rob. “You deserted me to fend for myself down here.”

  “Looks like you managed okay. I mean you are one of the few boats in the lagoon still floating, and you’ve got this pretty little lady at your helm. Not bad if you ask me,” said Joey chuckling. “So, you finally got smart and dumped that rich bitch from Chicago? The smartest thing you ever did aside from buying half the Island Fever.”

  “The later I might agree with, but the jury’s still out on the purchase… as much as I love the boat.”

  “Well, that’s kind of what we’re here to talk to you about… your investment. You see we’re here to buy you out.”

  Rob just looked at Joey uncertain what to say – then at Alex who looked as if she’d just received her pink-slip.

  “Well I’m not certain I want to sell,” said Rob, unsure what game Joey was playing with him at this point. Maybe this indeed was Joey’s game – sell the boat to some sucker – disappear and wait out the incubation period until a serious, incurable case of island fever had set in. Then, buy the boat back for half what he’d sold it for in the first place. But what Joey didn’t realize thought Rob, was that he had become somewhat immune to that deadly disease in the time he’d spent on the Island Fever and in the West Indies, and he was not as desperate as Joey probably thought to be bailed out at fifty cents on the dollar.

  “Well you see… I’m about to make you an offer you can’t refuse.”

  “Funny you don’t look like Marlon Brando.”

  Joey laughed and took the bottle from Alex unwinding the wire from the top, but before he had pulled it off the cork, the bottle exploded all over the cockpit.

  “Uh… I forgot to warn you… it sailed through the storm too,” said Alex trying not to laugh at Joey who was dripping with champagne.

  “Feels like I’ve just won a race,” said Joey, looking around, “Where’re the girls,” he said snickering – always the jokester. Then he proceeded to pour champagne into three cups and offered them to Alex and Rob, totally ignoring his men.

  “A toast! To Rob and Alex!” said Joey smiling as he raised his champagne to them – then downed half of it.

  “How could you let me walk right into Miguel’s trap, and how do you know what’s been going on here?” demanded Rob, getting a little angry.

  “I have to apologize for that Rob, that wasn’t part of the plan. How could I have known that he’d send two monkeys who didn’t know what I looked like?” offered Joey as he lifted his cup in another toast. “I’m just glad to know that you two are okay. I realize I have some explaining to do, but there’re some things you’re better off not knowing.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were a drug dealer before you took my money and made me your… partner? Do I have sucker written across my forehead?”

  “Well… you see it’s like this Rob. Miguel and I are actually on opposing teams. The drug dealer part is just a cover… you know, to get inside. In fact, you buying half the boat from me got my ass out of a lot of hot water. That money couldn’t have come at a better time.”

  “Inside what?” asked Rob.

  “The Cartel… the Medellin Cartel,” answered Joey. “You see… we took them down since they paid you a visit and they need to think I’m dead, or I soon will be along with the two of you if you stay on this boat.”

  Alex looked at Rob concerned as he put his arm around her and protectively pulled her close.

  “These nice gentlemen here are willing to take the boat off both our hands,” Joey said gesturing for them to hand him the sailbag the second guy was toting. Joey sat the bag on the deck and unzipped it, exposing stacks of hundred dollar bills.

  “The purchase price is only a million cash for your share. Sorry Rob, that was the best I could do,” Joey said winking at Rob.

  “But I paid —” Rob started to say as Joey cut him off putting his arm around him and whispering into his ear, “That’s double your money in less than six months. I’d say this has turned out to be a decent investment for you wouldn’t you?

  “But we don’t really want to sell,” said Alex, “There must be another way.”

  “Let’s just say ma’am, that this is the only way,” one of the big guys said in no uncertain terms. “Do yourself a favor, just take the money and walk away… no questions asked. If anyone wants to know why you sold out… Joey here came back and bought you out for a price you couldn’t refuse.”

  Rob and Alex stared at the stranger who stood there unflinching – waiting for them to accept the money and simply leave their boat. Walk away as if they never had any attach-ment to it what-so-ever.

  “Sorry guys, it’s the only way,” said Joey. “I couldn’t live with myself if I knew something happened to you because I put you in the middle of this situation.” “Can we have the night to think about it?” asked Rob. “Sorry… I need you to move off tonight as a matter of fact,” answered Joey.

  Rob looked at Alex hoping to read her thoughts but it was plainly written all over her face – the sadness of loosing yet one more part of her life in such a few short days. Alex said nothing, understanding that there was nothing left to be said that might change their fate. She had lived in the islands long enough to understand the unspoken drug laws in that part of the world. Many seemingly retired, gentlemen marijuana dealers had lived there over the years that she had resided in that part of the Caribbean – all harmless as I said before. None of them had been the gun toting criminals of the new cocaine cartels which had started infiltrating the area of recent, such as Miguel’s goons. Alex was grateful to learn that her friend Joey had been brave enough to risk his life to put an end to what could have potentially become a plague in that part of the Caribbean due to weak corrupt governments that could be easily swayed by large sums of money – like what had been happening over the last few years in St. Kitts.

  Joey gave Alex a big hug and thanked her for everything she’d done for him, and then gave a fond hug to Rob. “Thanks man… hope I changed your life a little for the better. Looks so,” he said as he smiled looking at the two of them, together.

  “Yeah… I’d say for the better or for worse,” Rob said as he took Alex’s hand. “Sorry I misjudged you man,” Rob said to Joey apologetically. “You’re a brave man.”

  Joey smiled at Rob knowing that he had indeed changed his life forever. This would be the last time Joey would ever speak with his friends, since after tonight, he would need to disappear from this part of the world – at least as Joey Mitchell. He motioned to his men that it was time for them to leave, and they boarded the 17 foot black rubber Zodiac and speed away.

  Sadly, Rob and Alex shared the last of the champagne with Joey and then packed up their meager belongings. As Alex brought bags and gear up onto the deck, Rob rowed them ashore to the marina to pack them into their locker and the back of the Yellow Submarine. It only took two trips since all Rob had were the two bags he’d arrived with six months earlier, and Alex had even less since most o
f her belongings lived aboard Dancer. Joey sat smoking on the aft bridgedeck giving them time to say their good-byes to the boat they had learned to love as home. Then they woke Christian telling him they had decided to go to the French side and get a hotel room. He was to come with them since they’d sold the boat back to Rob’s friend Joey and they were moving ashore. Groggy and confused, they led the boy to the marina’s tender tied between the hulls. Rob stepped back into the cockpit and extended his hand to Joey, who looked sadder even than they – this was the end of a grand era in the islands, never to come again for any of them.

  “Thanks for the chance to do this,” said Rob gratefully to Joey, “This was an opportunity of a lifetime. A scary one… but one that I’ll never forget. You take care of yourself,” said Rob as he slapped Joey on the shoulder and picked up the bag of money.

  Joey just smiled, afraid that if he spoke he might just lose it, which would be totally out of character. Rob climbed in the dinghy and ferried Christian and Alex ashore. They watched over their shoulders as the Island Fever disappeared into the liquid blackness – all except for her cabin light which appeared to levitate over the darkened lagoon like a small spaceship. Alex’s heart was breaking once more – she had grown to love the Island Fever as if it were her child. She was a beautiful, swanlike creature which had risen from a dirty old boat yard into an elegant, almost sentient being. Only sailors can understand the personality a boat takes on as if it were a living breathing being, and not just a stack of plywood, glue, and metal. They grow to understand how a boat responds to the wind, the sea, and most importantly, to one’s touch.

  Rob had also grown to love the boat, and to hate her as well. Yet Rob knew that she had become his accomplish-ment, and leaving her was harder than if he’d laid up every plank of her with his own hands. The Island Fever was the reason he had met Alex – had come to know her – and to fall in love with her. But most important – it was the reason he had come to know and love himself.

  They tied the tender on the marina dock, and Rob carried a sleepy Christian to the Yellow submarine and sat him in the back seat with Alex. He locked the last of their unneeded belongings in their locker for safe keeping and padlocked it twice. Carrying a million dollars cash around the island didn’t seem to him to be the smartest move he’d ever made, so Rob left it in the locker for now. He needed to sleep on it, clear his head and try to regain his reason so that he could figure out what to do with that much cash. He could bury it as he had pretended with Miguel’s goons, but that was hardly a safe option, and there weren’t too many places in the world that one could just walk in and make a cash deposit of that size without being scrutinized or arrested. Rob started the faithful little car and backed out of the lot, then drove slowly through the standing water which washed up through the floorboards to their knees. He dodged debris and vehicles which blocked the dirt roadway until he made his way out onto the hard surfaced road to Marigot.

  The island was pitch black, including the lagoon, which was now void of boats. Rob pulled out onto the deserted road and started up the hill to the French side. As he crested the hill overlooking the lagoon, the concussion of the blast hit the little vehicle – lighting the sky like a premature dawn. Rob jerked the car off the road and jumped out looking back at the ball of flame that hovered over the lagoon. There where the Island Fever had laid on anchor, blazed an inferno on the water – engulfing what little remained of her hull.

  Joey’s cover was now complete. As far as the world knew, Joey, or at least his identity had died that night aboard the Island Fever. Investigators would later find a body – so badly burned, it was beyond recognition. And, since the island police were so incompetent in forensic science – Joey’s dental records were never even requested for positive identification.

  In a state of shock, Rob and Alex returned to the marina and were questioned by the Dutch police who arrived on the scene, surprisingly fast. They arrived just as the last of the flames had extinguished themselves in their watery grave. Both Rob and Alex had testified to he fact that Joey had indeed been aboard when they left only twenty minutes before. Initially, when they arrived at the makeshift police station in Simpson Bay, since the Philipsburg one was flooded out, their old friends in charge had been unduly suspicious about Rob and Alex’s role in the explosion – questioning if they had been angry at Joey for wanting the boat back.

  Thank goodness Rob had stashed the cash in the locker before they had driven away, since that kind of cash would have raised their suspicions that much more.

  But, when Joey’s Interpol2* friends in the Hawaiian shirts, turned up in the outer office and spoke to the official in charge, it was only minutes before he and Alex had been ushered out of the station. It was well before dawn when they got back to the marina, where Christian still slept in the back seat of the car. The police had obviously been enlightened as to the nature of the whole affair and were told in no uncertain terms that this was simply not their jurisdiction and to lay off. Rob breathed a sigh of relief that amazingly, this had not gone the way of their last police escort and that they were free to go – no questions asked. The certificate confirming Joey’s death was signed by the island’s coroner and the case had been closed – forever. That night on the boat, Joey had officially ceased to exist, as had the Island Fever.

  Alex knew another piece of her had died that night as she watched the Island Fever burn to the waterline. She had given so much of herself to her, and she’s learned so much from the building of her. She was thankful that Rob had at least afforded her the opportunity to captain her, even if it had only been for a brief time.

  Rob looked at the sail bag the next morning when they returned to the locker from the French guesthouse where they had left Christian. Rob had lost everything –the toll had been high to reach enlightenment. It was true that he’d been repaid twofold, but he would’ve gladly given that bag full of money to simply bring Grandma and Grandpa back and return the island and life to the way it had been only a few days prior. But he wouldn’t have traded the experience of sailing through that storm for ten times the amount of money in that bag. Through it, Rob had learned the value of life and what was truly important. And the commodity for which he had struggled and toiled for the last ten years, he realized was like the rain from a storm – it came and went being only one of the necessities to sustain life. It was never meant to last. Like everything else in life except love, it eventually evaporated, just as the sun consumed the moisture and turned it back to rain. His toil had been like the sun and the clouds –to extract a living from his environment – only to pour it back into it. Money was simply a liquid ever flowing substance. It was not the tree that grew into life, only one of its many fuels for growth – what it needed to sustain it and allow it to achieve its purpose here on the planet. Rob had learned that money was not the goal in life. It couldn’t bring him happiness – it hadn’t brought him love. Surely it had not been the means of discovery of Paradise or happiness for Rob, since those things he’d found on his own – at a time in his life when he’d been the poorest – at least in money.

  By the time they had arrived back at the marina, the Coconut Telegraph was already sizzling with the news of the Island Fever’s demise, and rumors that Rob and Alex had been aboard. Everyone was greatly relived to see them drive up in the Yellow Submarine, yet disheartened to learn that although they were safe, Joey had been aboard. A faulty propane line on one of their refrigerators had been blamed for the ‘accident’ Jeff had told them – making the propane tanks a bomb that had blown the boat right out of the water. Rob and Alex found no need to act as if they were shocked or surprised by the tragedy – they truly were. Joey’s plan had been so quickly enacted, the reality of it had still not had time to sink in. They had expected that Joey would go missing and the boat would have been seized as a drug confiscation or at the very least, put up for sale – not blown to pieces. Couldn’t they have spared her? After all, she was the one innocent victim in the entire
mess. But, what better way to publicly announce Joey’s demise than via a spectacular show for all the island to see. With all certainty – news of his death would reach South America within days via the Coconut Telegraph, and reach Miguel’s followers who still believed Joey to have millions of Miguel’s money hidden. Not to mention being the one responsible for his 350 year internment in Leavinworth.

  Rob and Alex took the ferry to Anguilla that morning from Marigot, with the cash in hand. Somehow the ferry had survived Claire in the lagoon, tucked up into the mangroves. Their reason for visiting the tiny little storm ravaged island was to open a new bank account and make a rather substantial deposit. Like I said before, Rob knew there were few places in the world where he could walk into a bank with a bag of cash and not raise some eyebrows, other than Switzerland and the Cayman Islands – no questions asked. But, Alex had informed Rob that Anguilla was part of that elite private banking enclave where one could hide whole fortunes from the rest of the world, as St. Maarten had been until the world found out that it was where the Markos’ had stashed much of the national treasury of the Phillipines, not to mention where Mrs. Markos had purchased most of her shoes.

  Rob had indeed made much larger transfers and transactions in the past for his clients, but this was the first time that he had held a receipt in his hand with his own name on it showing his net worth to be one million dollars cash. Nervously, Rob walked out of the bank, expecting to be stopped and questioned. When he climbed into the taxi Scott free, he started to relax and turned to Alex and smiled. “Do you think there might be a restaurant open on the island where I could buy my beautiful lady lunch?” he asked the taxi driver.

  “Ah… de resorts, dey hab dere owd genarta, dey awl be’d inbidness sur,” he answered, happy to even have a paying patron on the island as he drove them to lunch at a five star resort/spa, on the north side of the island that had managed to escape serious damage from the storm.