“Did you ever mention my name to him and did you notice that cigar he was chomping on?”
“Well, I guess I could have mentioned your name. What has his cigar got to do with anything?”
“That cigar, my friend, if my memory serves me right, is only manufactured in Bogota, Colombia, and is meant for chewing, not smoking. One of the Colombian soldiers I worked with used to chew on one all the time.”
“And what does that have to do with our money?”
I look him straight in the eyes. “That soldier came to the States and tried to kill me.”
Chapter 67: The Salvage Trip
TC and I take the briefcase with us and put it in the trunk of our rental car. I guess I’m becoming paranoid, because I get down on my hands and knees and look under the car and even open the hood and look inside. I get some strange looks from not only TC but also everyone standing around outside the car rental terminal.
Once we get to TC’s room, I check the briefcase over for any wires and listen for any ticking from inside. TC thinks I am absolutely nuts. I unsnap each lock separately and listen for any inside noises. I ask TC to back away and I use a coat hanger to open the case. Nothing blows up or catches on fire. We find no explosives inside, and after counting, all $25,000 in cash is there. Maybe I am becoming paranoid.
Since there are no safes in our rooms, I suggest TC take the briefcase down to the front desk and have them keep it in their office safe. Before doing that, he takes $1,000 from the case for walking around money and puts it in his fanny pack. We spend the rest of the day just lounging around the hotel and talking about our soon-to-be salvage adventure, or at least TC does. I keep searching the area for any possible assassins and wondering if Ginny Ridlinger is going to walk in the front door.
We meet Mr. Plum at 10:00 the following morning, and he is wearing the same clothes and hat he was wearing yesterday and he has a cigar sticking out of his lapel pocket. I sit up front with him and TC gets in the back. As soon as we get moving, I ask, “Where do you get your cigars, Mr. Plum?”
Before he can answer, I hear TC whisper under his breath, “Here we go.”
“I buy them from a store here in Antigua, why do you ask?”
“Well, a friend of mine used to chew on them back in Colombia and he always said that was the only place you could purchase them.”
Sounding somewhat irritated, he replies, “Well, I guess they decided to branch out and market them all over.”
I opt to shut up about the cigars and pay more attention to where we are going. We arrive at the marina about 10:30 and Mr. Plum walks us over to the boat he has rented for us. I notice several not-so-savory looking characters in the general vicinity and I touch my holstered .45 in the small of my back just to give me that warm and fuzzy feeling. They all smile at us and go on with whatever they are doing.
Spread out on the dock is all of the dive equipment TC had told Mr. Plum we needed. We test all of the cylinders and go over each piece of equipment. Everything seems first class and certified. The boat itself is rather dated, but it looks seaworthy and it will work fine for what we will be doing.
“Here are the keys to the boat. There’s a cooler on board with sandwiches and drinks and the gas tanks are full.” He hands me an envelope and continues, “Here are the coordinates of where we think the wreck is located. Give me a call me when you get back.”
“You’re not going along, Mr. Plum?” I quickly ask.
“Oh no, I get seasick just looking at the ocean.”
The three unsavory characters load all of the equipment onboard. TC and I check out the GPS system on the boat. Everything seems to be working and the gas gauges read full. We head out to sea at about 11:30 with Mr. Plum and the dockhands waving goodbye. The temperature is 82 degrees, the sun is shining, and it’s another beautiful day in paradise. The coordinates Mr. Plum gave us puts the wreck site about two miles off shore.
We are just moving along at a moderate pace, enjoying the weather when all of a sudden the engine begins to sputter about thirty minutes into our trip. TC shuts it down and I lift the engine compartment cover to see if I can figure out what’s wrong. My Special Forces training kicks in, don’t think, just react. I turn to TC and yell, “Jump TC, jump!” I take two broad strides and since he is just staring at me with a blank look on his face, I push him over the edge of the boat and dive in behind him. Just as we hit the water, the world around us explodes.
Chapter 68: Crowded in Antigua
It’s Ginny Ridlinger’s first full day in Antigua. Her goal is to find her old Air Force girlfriend, Moozie Cameron. She goes on Google and searches for the name of the bar she manages. Low and behold, there it is. She rents a car and heads out to find the address. As soon as she walks in the front door, she spots a familiar figure standing behind the bar. Their eyes meet at the same time, “Oh, my God, Ginny Ridlinger.”
“Oh, my God, Moozie Cameron, and oh, my God, you’ve grown!”
Moozie laughs, “Not really,” as she steps down from the six-inch step she had installed behind the full length of the bar so her 5’2” body could see over it.
She runs around the end of the bar and jumps up on Ginny. For about five minutes neither one stops talking. Finally Moozie asks, “Where are you staying and how long are you going to be here?”
“I’m staying at the Jolly Beach Resort and I’ll be here for about two weeks.”
“Well, you just go back and check out. You’re moving in with me. I have a spare room and it’s yours.”
Moozie gives Ginny the address and tells her how to get there. She then puts the assistant manager in charge of the bar and goes home to spiff up the condo.
Ginny arrives about 11:30 and after some lunch and a bunch of small talk, they sit out on the screened-in porch facing the ocean. Moozie fixes Ginny a Rum Runner and fixes herself a Sex on the Beach. Life could not be less complicated than right now, just two old friends gazing at the ocean with a drink in their hand, reminiscing about old times.
They both notice the fireball at the same time and hear the dull explosion seconds later. Ginny looks at Moozie and says, “My God, what was that?”
“I don’t know, but if it was a boat, whoever was on board is probably dead.”
That same morning Beverly and Rick are flying into Antigua. They had been in the Virgin Islands the day before checking out some Stephanie sightings, which turned out to be a wild goose chase. Since most of her calls have been from Antigua, they came here to check out some of those leads.
Beverly is daydreaming while staring out of the plane’s window at a small boat below. She has been watching it splash across the ocean but then it abruptly goes dead in the water. All of a sudden, all hell breaks loose and the boat literally blows up right in front of her. She motions to Rick, who is preparing for their final ascent into the airport, to go down and take a look. He banks the plane in the direction Beverly was pointing and sees the fire and smoke. He makes a low pass and they notice two people in the water. He tips his wings to signify they see them and will send help. He gets on his radio and calls the emergency channel to report the problem and the location. As they are proceeding to the airport, they notice a boat speeding toward the scene of the accident. Rick says to Beverly, “Looks like help is on the way.”
Rick’s so-called “help” is a speedboat with Mr. Plum and his three dockhands, and they all have weapons at the ready.
Dr. Jon Spineback and Mary Jo are sitting on the beach drinking Bloody Marys when they hear the sound of the explosion and notice the smoke plume out in the ocean.
Dr. Jon has been checking online to see the status of the Stuart Peterson case. So far, so good. His name has not been mentioned. He is considering flying back to the mainland to make sure his monthly pain pill junkies get their fix, check on his house, and pick up some more cash. However, after much thought, he just gets online and transfers money from his Columbus account to a bank in Antigua. He figures he is in the clear so far since the money
transfer goes through with no problem.
Stephanie Langchester is also on the beach. She is wearing sunglasses and a large sun hat. She is trying to decide if she should return to Georgetown and resume her search for Captain Swinely’s buried treasure, and she is also wondering why Beverly is searching for her. She can’t believe the authorities have any idea she was involved with the death of the lowlifes in Charleston. She did speak with her contact and close friend at British Intelligence who does not know where she is located, and he said they have two operatives in the Caribbean looking for her. He tells her the scuttlebutt around the office is that they also hired a private firm to search for her as well. If that’s true, she wonders if Beverly is part of that search.
Stephanie has spent the last couple of days picking up Beverly’s flyers and disposing of them. She usually wears a wig and inconspicuous clothing so as not to draw any undue attention. She is glad Beverly did not mention her height on the flyers. That would be a dead giveaway. She removes her glasses and raises her hat when she hears the remnants of the explosion and sees the smoke.
Chapter 69: Evidence
Detective Reynolds has been busy lately. He received his long-awaited warrant to search Stuart Peterson’s office and apartment. He has also finally found out where he thinks Dr. Jon Spineback and his wife went on vacation. Since he couldn’t find them at the Columbus International Airport, he started searching local private airports. He found what he was looking for when he checked out Don Scott Field. Dr. Spineback had booked a private flight to Key West, not Canada, and that led him to another private flight from Key West to Antigua. He finds the Doctor’s black SUV located in the long-term parking lot at the airport. He tries to call Mickke D; however, his cell phone keeps going to voicemail.
He and his forensic crew enter Stuart Peterson’s computer store about the same time as another crew enters Mr. Peterson’s apartment. Both crews are looking for anything that might tie Mr. Peterson to Dr. Jon Spineback and/or his twin brother Von.
At the shop, they end up taking three laptops and two computers. They also take several thumb drives they find in different locations in the shop. Now it will be up to the forensic people to see what they can find on the computers, laptops, and thumb drives.
At Stuart Peterson’s apartment, they find two more laptops and five thumb drives. One they found taped under a drawer in his desk. They also confiscated several thousands of dollars in cash, assault rifles, shotguns, and three handguns.
Detective Reynolds puts a rush on everything they have discovered. He needs proof that Stuart was working for one or both of the Spineback twins. Once back in the office, he tries to call Mickke D again. The call goes to voicemail as before.
Chapter 70: The Colombians
TC and I both pop to the surface of the debris-scattered ocean at about the same time. We hear the plane and watch it skim the ocean and tip its wings, as we frantically wave.
Somehow, the boat is still afloat, or at least the front half of the boat is still above water. We grab hold to steady ourselves. I look at TC and say, “Do you still think I’m paranoid?”
“What the hell was that? Thanks for the push. Are you OK?” he asks while gasping for air.
“I’m OK but I’m not sure we’re out of the woods yet,” as I turn and point. “That boat coming our way could be a friend or possibly a foe. At least the plane that just flew over knows we’re here.”
TC replies, “Well, if it’s a foe, we’re sitting ducks.”
“No shit, TC.” I notice an air tank rolling around on what’s left of the boat deck. “TC, grab those masks and that air supply line floating over there and I’ll try to snatch that air tank. Maybe we can stay submerged until we determine their intentions.”
I am hoping the air tank is undamaged and the supply line works. I raise myself up on the deck and drag the air tank over the edge just as a spray of bullets smash into the deck. “TC, I’m pretty sure it’s not a friend.”
We quickly hook up the supply line to the tank. At least for now there are air bubbles coming out. We fill our lungs with air and dive just as Mr. Plum and his dockhands arrive. They pepper the ocean with bullets, which pass harmlessly around us.
TC has the air tank strapped to his back and we keep sharing its life-giving resource. I can see the shadow of the newly arrived boat about thirty feet above us and they keep sending bullets our way. I finally decide it’s time to fish or cut bait. I motion to TC to keep moving around down here and that I am going up. His eyes widen but he nods his head.
I fill my lungs with air and slowly float up. I stay under and to the rear of the boat’s shadow. I surface, take a big gulp of real air, and grab hold of the swim platform at the rear of the boat. I fetch my trusty .45 from its holster in the small of my back, and shake it out of the water to dry it off. I can hear the rifles firing into the water at TC.
The decisive moment has arrived. I hoist myself up on the platform and say, “Hey, you guys looking for me?” As they turn to the sound of my voice, I fire three times, pop, pop, pop, and the three dockhands fall. Mr. Plum is staring at me with a handgun hanging at his side. “Go ahead Mr. Plum, make my day.” He drops the gun on the deck.
I climb on board and walk over to Mr. Plum. I pick up his gun and put it in my waistband. I take my foot and shove the assault rifles away from the fallen dockhands. “Who sent you to kill me, Mr. Plum?”
“I want a lawyer,” he stammers.
I smash my fist into his nose and reply, “Wrong answer.” He falls to the deck as blood spews from his broken nose and decorates his white suit with red polka dots. Just then, I hear and notice movement from the rear of the boat. I quickly turn with gun in hand, and there is TC.
As I help him onboard, he says, “Sorry, Mickke D, the tank ran out of air. Must have been a leak somewhere. Looks like you have this situation under control.”
“For now, find something to tie your friend’s hands with. He is not cooperating.”
I turn as two other boats approach our location. One looks like a search and rescue and the other is a Royal Police Force boat. I wave their way and lay my weapon and Mr. Plum’s gun on the deck.
There are three local police officers on the police boat and they come onboard. As soon as they see the dockhands lying on the deck and weapons strewn about, they draw their weapons. I suppose their first thought is this is a drug deal gone badly. TC and I raise our hands and Mr. Plum blurts out, “Arrest them, they shot my friends and attacked me. We came over to help them.”
One of the officers looks at me and asks, “What happened to him?” Pointing at the trembling Mr. Plum.
I reply, “He fell down and hit his nose.”
We all turn, as there is a loud swishing sound as our boat finally succumbs to the explosion and sinks into the clear blue-green sea.
The same officer asks, “What happened to that boat?”
“These people tried to kill us by blowing up our boat,” pointing at the dockhands and Mr. Plum.
“That’s absurd,” Mr. Plum replies, holding his nose.
The police officer motions for the search and rescue boat to pull alongside and two men come on board to look after the dockhands and Mr. Plum. They proclaim one of the dockhands as deceased. They load the wounded and the dead guy onto the search and rescue boat along with one policeman, while TC, Mr. Plum, and I return to the island, along with all of the weapons, in the police boat. They hook up Mr. Plum’s boat and tow it behind.
We spend the next two hours explaining our side of the story to an inspector with the Royal Police Force and I assume they did background checks on us with Interpol. We give a written statement and turn over our passports. They don’t want us leaving the island until they have this whole thing figured out. They tend to Mr. Plum’s nose and lock him up. I guess they did a background check on him as well. I ask for my .45; however, they tell me I can retrieve it when I get my passport back.
TC and I don’t mind. We have our rooms and rental car pa
id for by Mr. Plum and $25,000 in cash to spend, although $1,000 of that may be a little bit soggy. Life is good. Now maybe I can finally get in some R & R.
Just as we are walking out of the station, my cell phone rings. I stop to answer, thanks to the waterproof case on my phone. The call is from big Steve. “I have more good news for you. Are you sitting down?”
“Trust me big Steve, you can’t make my day any worse than it already is.” I figure I can get by calling him big Steve since he is in Lancaster.
He pauses before answering, “Well, digest this. Dr. Jon Spineback is also in Antigua along with his wife.”
I was wrong. My day can get worse and a lot more complicated. “You have to be kidding me. Is Ohio running a special to Antigua? Are you sure Von Spineback is not here as well?”
“No, he’s still here. We have him under 24/7 surveillance. Why has your day been so bad? I thought you were there for some R & R?”
“Well, someone blew up the boat we were on.”
He chuckles, “You seem to have a problem with things blowing up around you. Was it some woman’s husband?”
“Very funny. Keep me advised when the rest of Ohio heads my way. I’ll keep my eyes peeled for Ginny Ridlinger and now Dr. Jon as well.”
Just as we are about to leave through the sliding glass doors at the police station, I grab TC and pull him back inside. I can’t believe my eyes. Walking up the sidewalk toward the police station is my ex-girlfriend Beverly and some guy who looks familiar to me. “TC, sneak a look at that woman coming up the walk. Do you recognize her?”
He peeks around the corner, “My God, Mickke D, she looks like Beverly.”
“Thanks. I was beginning to think that explosion screwed up my vision.”
“Who’s the guy with her?”
Death on Mt Pleasant Page 17
