by Ed Teja
“Possibly. That's why I dealt myself in—to see what's really at stake here. As you so quaintly put it, I figured he needed adult supervision, and I decided to provide it. I was all set up for that, and suddenly he is dragging you two into the mix. That didn't smell right.”
“You don't think there is a threat to Polly?” Bill asked.
She shrugged. “I honestly have no idea. The mention of it surprised me. We have the intel now, so we will see for ourselves.”
“You have doubts?”
“Big ones. Buying the maritime security company made perfect sense. It fits in with the other operations. Why wouldn't a growing shipping company want its own security firm? They contract out and get their own for free. But political assassination, military interventions are out of character for Vermeer. He's a finance guy, not exactly your standard a macho dictator type or even anything like the cartel bosses. He's a businessman who likes exploiting niches.”
“The photos are impressive.”
“They deserve a closer look. My people haven't heard a peep about this entire mercenary gig and that doesn't ring true. I can see him getting involved in money laundering and converting cash to crypto. That's practically standard operating procedure. And he won't be thrilled if new legislation makes that harder, but taking out a senator? I don't buy it.”
“Why would Hank make that up?”
She smiled. “The very reason he gave you—to convince you to play.”
The idea struck home, making my body tense up. “If he is bullshitting me just to get me to run a mission that saves his career, I'll kick his ass.”
Amy put up a hand. “Wait until we know something definite. I'm a professionally suspicious person. That's kept me alive. But I promise to keep an open mind long enough for us to go upstairs and review the evidence for ourselves.”
“An open yet skeptical mind is an honest way to view the world,” Bill said. “As Richard Dawkins said: 'Be open-minded, but not so much that your brains falls out.' Or, as Confucius put it: Moderation in all things.”
Amy was right to be suspicious. “This entire thing stank. The aborted assault that was supposedly so we could have a chat is rank with stupidity. Then he needs me to run the mission and claims he picked me because he knew I'd do it for Polly. It would have been cheaper to hire mercs.”
“More easily traced back to him,” she said. “There's no money trail with you. He could have any number of reasons for meeting with his wife's ex, even for bringing him to Exuma. What he did after that—why, who would guess he'd abduct someone, or get killed trying to?”
“There is that cheerful thought,” Bill said.
“Then let's adjourn these open, yet skeptical minds, and regroup in our newly minted war room upstairs,” I said.
Amy lifted her coffee cup and made a face. “Mind if I send out for a pot of decent coffee? There's a place in town that will deliver, and I can't work properly with unleaded fuel.”
“Damn right,” Bill said. “Get a couple of pots.” He grinned at me. “Junior, I told you the lady would fit in.”
He hadn't said that, at least not today, but I didn't want to destroy the mood.
16
You could say anything you wanted about Hank and his operation, and you could wonder how he processed all the information he'd come up with, but I had to admit he had collected a lot of stuff on Vermeer.
We divided it up with the vague idea we'd each focus on a particular topic. Amy hunted down references to assassins, senators, and general stuff about the US security operation; Bill went after any signs of the logistics a significant mercenary operation would require. He was looking for anything to suggest preparations for a specific operation. My task was more ephemeral. I was looking for anything suggesting plans and intentions that might tell us how they'd use their new resources. That had me combing it for things that had the smell of hidden commands or instructions.
Over lunch, bleary-eyed, we compared notes.
“I can find references to the senator,” Amy said, “but they are more warnings from the investors to Vermeer, showing their concern for the consequences of the legislation she is trying to put through. And it's just speculation, based on what happens if Europe does the same. Dull shit and nothing that indicates they see her personally as some existential threat. She just represents a trend they need to anticipate... but normal business problems.”
“What about the sudden expansion into security stuff in the US?” I asked.
Bill chuckled. “Only if they have a pretty crazy deep-cover operation. All this suggests is that he bought two small security firms and merged them. He didn't move in any significant assets. There's been no big change of employees, just the layoffs mergers normally produce. And the companies aren't heavy duty at all, they operate your basic high-tech home and business alarm service and send out rent-a-cops to investigate.”
Amy pointed to her laptop screen. “He's right. I found your Polly's security operation. Her home security is provided by a competitor of Vermeer's new firms, so there isn't even an open door there.”
“The whole mercenary army idea is looking like crap,” Bill said.
“No weaponry?”
“Oh sure. Lots of mentions of purchases of military weapons, but as best I can tell, stringing these obscure references together, those are for resale to customers. He is expanding into arms dealing and it's all purchased to order. There is no indication he is stockpiling weapons, even on a small scale.”
“That fits better with what I'd expect of him,” Amy said. “If you have a company already running efficient smuggling operations and you want to expand, selling guns is a natural adjunct to your existing business.”
Then it was my turn. “I'm embarrassed to say I too have almost nothing. Maybe less than nothing. I've come across comments and documents that I could weave into a number of cool conspiracy plots, but they'd all be a stretch. There's nothing you couldn't put together for almost any business that crosses the lines, which means most multinationals. They bribe people, officials and so on, but there isn't much detail about what they get in return. I'm guessing it's mostly look-the-other-way money. And, if his mercenaries are for hire, Vermeer sure doesn't seem to be doing much toward finding them work.”
“I wouldn't expect him to have hired an ad agency,” Bill said.
“True, but I would think I'd find offers to overthrow a small African republic or otherwise wreak havoc. There are mentions of mercenary actions, but they seem to be the security company's analysis of places that should command premiums for protection.”
“So, the most interesting, and the only tangible evidence of this threat is in those photos.”
“Postcards of an island bristling with weaponry in the tranquil Caribbean Sea,” Bill said. “Anomalous images that don't fit the world we read about in the documents.”
Amy sipped a beer thoughtfully. “If we haven't found any concrete evidence so far—”
“Then we probably won't,” Bill said.
“So, rather than go over this garbage looking for gold, let's go back to the room and give the photos a hard look see,” she said. “Who said seeing is believing?”
“It was Bill,” I said.
“We need to see if we can believe.”
Back in the room, Amy grabbed the photos, got down on the floor and spread them out. There were twenty-four of them. Putting them in a six-by-four matrix, they showed the entire island. I put the map of the island on the floor next to it so we could orient ourselves.
“The one thing my people are sure of is the baseline story of Vermeer's operations is true.”
“And that means...?”
“No matter what is or isn't in those documents, we need to grab his ass.” She looked at me. “Are you willing to pretend that we believe the threat against your ex is real and move on with doing that?”
I shrugged. “Sure. Going ahead solves the problem if there is one.”
&nb
sp; “It's a strange world where 'do no harm' means go ahead with an incursion,” Hank said.
“He's for it,” I told Amy with a wink.
“And the photos will tell us how,” I said.
“Right,” she said. “So, we assume nothing.”
“Always wise.”
“We use the photos to find the weaknesses, and plan our mission, keeping it simple.”
“As simple as possible,” Bill said.
“Once we complete the mission, we can get real answers from the master criminal himself.”
“We do seem to be on location already,” Bill said. “It would be a shame to come all this way and go home without at least bringing down a major criminal organization.”
“You do know how to talk to a girl,” Amy laughed.
As much as Bill protested about indifference, he had an overdeveloped hero gland too. “My social calendar was filling up,” I said. “But I'm sure I can squeeze in running an international kidnapping operation. As long as it's soon.”
“Tomorrow night,” Amy said. We both looked at her. “Vermeer arrives on Exuma at noon tomorrow. His private plane will take him to the island right away. I see no reason to let him recover from jet lag before he travels again.”
“And you kept that vital information from Hank?” I asked.
She grinned. “I may have neglected to mention it.”
“Tacky,” Bill said.
“I know it was terrible of me, but when it comes to this mission, I'd like to keep as much as possible among us three until the last minute.”
“Why?”
“Suspicions,” she said. “This mess of papers, the jumble of the trivial, the rotten garbage he mixed in with actual facts, it all stinks. It's all to convince us, you mostly, to run the mission. He needs a win because he has screwed up. I'd rather we weren't on the wrong end of his screwing up.”
“Nice goal for us all,” Bill said. “And I'm increasingly skeptical of an idea that sounded farfetched to begin with—that Polly is at risk, at least from an attack by a major strike force on US soil.”
I nodded. “He's admitted that he fed us each reasons that make sense to us. And while I buy the idea that he needs a win, Hank doesn't strike me as enough of a gambler to throw these high-stakes dice just to improve his resume. There is too much chance of things going wrong.”
“So you think he has another reason for putting this together. Any ideas?” Bill asked.
I shook my head. “I kind of hoped something in the mess of papers would jump out at us.”
Amy tapped her fingers on a photo of the ops center on the island. “Where does that leave us?”
“Agreeing with you. Say we discount everything Hank has said. The fact is that we are here, with the means to stop a bad guy running something that needs stopping. If we do other good along the way, that will be cake under the frosting.”
“Martin always eats the frosting first,” Bill told Amy. He slapped my shoulder. “Then we agree that despite Hank's bullshit, this a go.”
“We still do need something of a plan,” I said. Then, seeing the look on Bill's face, I changed my wording. “At least we need to establish some mission goals.”
“Better,” he said.
Any pointed at what appeared to be gun emplacements near the main dock. “They've got some nasty stuff here.”
“It looks like they started the work on this side of the island and are working across.”
“Makes sense,” Amy said. “That's where the administration building already was when this was a marine research facility. The buildings there must have been in good enough shape to renovate and put to use. The dock is sheltered.”
“What happened to the research center? Why was it abandoned?”
“It wound up being run, poorly, as a nonprofit. They lost focus, doing a little of this and a little of that.” She pointed to a building. “Over here they studied lobsters.” She pointed back at the docks. “Over here, the dive shop supported research involving deep diving with mixed gases.” Her finger traced a line along the coast. “These are dorms—teachers brought students out for projects—a load of things. They also got funding from NOAA to maintain some weather buoys and other apparatus for monitoring hurricanes. When the US government cut NOAA's budget, and other political problems dried up donations, they couldn't support the island. It fell into disrepair and finally was abandoned.”
Bill grinned. “So the little Dutch boy bought it as a fixer up?”
“Vermeer got permission from the local government to take it over. He paid them some big bucks to let him set up a base of operations. His people renovated the few buildings that weren't falling down and then built his dream villa. At first, it looked like he was just building a lovely place to live and work. But if these photos are real, they changed direction.”
I pointed over at the ops center. “They've got a lot of new infrastructure on that side. That's where he will probably be, and it will be rough to get in.”
She shook her head. “That is the hub of the island, and the command center will be there. They have special communications and power-generation facilities. But we want Brad Vermeer.”
“And he runs the place.”
“He runs the organization, not the island. That's why Hank's story about him being hands-on sounds bogus. Fortunately, for us, I know that he prefers to delegate the boring, routine jobs. He is the face of Vermeer Tropical Properties and its financial wizard. When it's necessary, he meets with government officials and companies, but when he's on the island, he spends most of his time at his villa. He leaves the day-to-day operations to his island management team. He has his head in global operations, which he runs from computers in the villa. He likes systems and automating them. Unless he is briefing his people, they go about the daily business of running guns, drugs, and people as routinely as if it was a mom-and-pop deli. They order supplies, do maintenance, and generally take care of business. They don't even come to the villa.”
“The man likes his privacy.”
She nodded. “He has things there set up exactly the way he likes them. So the villa is well stocked with girls and booze, good food, and all the benefits of being wealthy. “
“Sweet for Brad.”
She shrugged.
“If they've built up defenses, how do we approach the villa?” I asked.
Amy grabbed the map and pointed to a spot. “The villa is here. We can't reach it directly from the sea due to the nature of the shoreline. It is sited on high ground because the man wanted a view. The nearest open beach that isn't completely visible from his perch is over here, down on the Atlantic side, just inside the cut. There is an area where the researchers built a ramp to unload supply barges.”
“Probably heavily fortified,” I said, thinking out loud.
“You'd think so but look.” She grabbed a photo and showed me. “As you noted, all the work started at the ops center on the other side of the island. It's gotten all the way to the renovated airstrip, but they don't seem to have done anything near the barge ramp yet. Nothing.”
I stared at the photo. “Nothing there but what appears to be abandoned housing. They haven't got any facilities in use anywhere close to it.”
“Which means no one will notice when Bill brings us in fast, with no lights. We don't need to swim. He runs up the ramp and we jump out and push him back. He goes around a corner and takes a nap until it's time to pick us up again.”
“Probably in a hail of bullets,” Bill said.
“Don't be too greedy to join in the fun,” Amy said. She poked at the map again and traced a line with her finger. “Once we are ashore, we have a straight shot across open country to the villa. We don't need to go anywhere near the places they've built up quite nicely.”
“We need to expect they'll have roving patrols,” I said.
Amy laughed. “Sure. But what fun would it be if it was too easy? We can either go around them or immo
bilize them.”
“Immobilize?”
“Tie them up and leave them. That will give us time enough to get into position and grab our quarry. Then, with you toting him, we hightail it back to the landing. Bill will pick us up and we ferry Brad to rendezvous with Hank's people, and they install Vermeer in his new luxury suite.”
“Sounds easy the way you tell it.”
“That leaves lots of room for things to go wrong and for us to still have a good time,” she said.
“What if Brad, for whatever reason, isn't in the villa?” I asked.
“He will be,” she said. “He's a man of habit and we've watched him for some time. He hates being anywhere else.”
“But, if Hank is right, you missed out on some key things. Maybe something has changed. He might act differently.”
Amy put her fist on the table. “If he isn't there, we will wait for him.”
“That's a rather dull Plan B,” Bill said. “And it leaves me just hanging around until you call.”
“That's why you get the big bucks,” she said. “You could take a fishing rod.”
“Ugh,” he said.
“Think of it as a spy mission, and fishing is your cover story,” I said.
“Isn't that exactly what it is?” he asked.
“No. Spies work for the government. We are rogue zealots sneaking in to kidnap the lawful property owner.”
Bill stretched. “Well, then. I feel better already. Have we done enough planning yet?”
Amy grinned. “Probably way too much. But as long as we have this material here, I want to go through it. Now that we've made our own assumptions, I can see it with fresh eyes. You boys care to join me?”
We didn't, but then that's the nature of preparing for a mission. So we dug in without quite the enthusiasm she might have been hoping for.
17
A few long hours later, having gone over everything again but not finding any better approach, we called it an evening.
“Why don't we all go out for dinner?” Amy asked. “I know the island's other good restaurant.”
