Bluewater Bullion: The Seventh Novel in the Caribbean Mystery and Adventure Series (Bluewater Thrillers Book 7)

by Charles Dougherty

"Liz and Marilyn and I will hold everybody right there until I find out from Phillip and Denardo what they want to do with the prisoners. That probably means until sometime tomorrow morning. We're in international waters and Pisces of Atë is U.S. flagged, so my bet is they'll bring in the U.S. Coast Guard."

  "How long you want us to stand by?" Marie asked.

  "I think once we've got things under control, you can disappear into the dark."

  Marie smiled. "Is what we do best. We can take out the trash, if you wish."

  "The trash?" Marilyn asked, frowning. "You said that before. I don't get it."

  "Any inconvenient bodies," Liz explained.

  One of the two crewmen tapped Marie on the shoulder and bent to whisper in her ear. "They see the target with the night vision glasses. We're about a kilometer away. Are we ready for our approach?"

  "Let's go," Dani said.

  Marie spoke to the man in a soft French patois. He smiled and nodded and went back to the controls.

  ****

  Bond was screaming as Dani stepped through the open sliding door, Marie on her heels. They separated immediately, Dani stepping to the right and Marie to the left. Cindy was the first to notice the two intruders.

  "Marie Lacroix!" she said, a stunned look on her face. "But you were — "

  "I escaped." Marie said.

  "I'm glad. I didn't ... "

  Cindy's words were cut off as a small, dark red hole appeared in her forehead. She collapsed slowly across the table, surprise still on her face.

  "Don't move. Nobody else has to die," Marie said. "She crossed me in Islamabad; I owed her one."

  "Where are your two men, Mr. Bond?" Dani asked.

  "D-dead. Below, in the forepeak."

  "Anybody else aboard?" Marie asked.

  "No," Gerald said, displaying the first sign of comprehension.

  "Ms. Berger," Meyers said, "listen to me for a moment."

  "Not right now, Meyers. Liz!" Dani called.

  "Ah! You know who I am." Meyers stood up, and Hart made a sudden motion. "Then you must know ... "

  Dani's pistol coughed and Meyers collapsed, screaming. As she shifted her eyes looking for Hart, she saw a hole appear in his forehead and he collapsed. Marie swung her pistol toward Meyers.

  Dani looked back at him. He was still screaming, albeit more softly. "Shut up, Meyers, or I'll blow out your other knee. Keep your hands where I can see them. Put 'em on top of your head, and be still."

  "I could make you rich, Ms. Berger," he said.

  "Not from where you're going, you can't."

  "You called?" Liz asked, having watched from the sliding door after Dani yelled for her. "You want me to cable tie him before he causes any more trouble?"

  "Yes. I'll cover you from here. Wrists behind him; pull his ankles up."

  Liz set the assault rifle down and pulled a handful of cable ties from a small pouch at her waist. "Face down, Meyers. On your belly," she said as she moved toward him.

  "But my knee," he objected.

  "Not our problem. Now, do as she said, or I'll pop the other one," Dani ordered.

  "Need anything else, Dani?" Marie asked.

  "No, thanks. You leaving?"

  "Yes. Soon. First, though I need a picture." She took a Smartphone from a waterproof case and crouched next to the body of the red-headed woman, snapping several shots from different angles. "Some people I used to work for will wish to know for sure that she is dead. She betrayed us; cost the lives of my whole team."

  "I have a question for you, Marie."

  "If possible, I will answer. What do you wish?"

  "About your pistol?"

  "Yes, what about it?"

  "I never heard it fire, and there were no exit wounds."

  Marie smiled. "Yes. It is special. For close work only. It is small calibre, and the bullets disintegrate after the first impact. Is some high-tech material, the projectile. There will be nothing for a ballistics comparison. A small charge is at the back of the round, almost like a little rocket, so there is a soft hiss, not a pop."

  "Where did you get that?"

  "I stole it. I cannot say more."

  "Thank you for your help, and have a safe voyage back to Martinique."

  "It is always a pleasure, Dani. Clarence sends his best, and he said to ask you to remember him to your father."

  Dani and Marie stepped out into the cockpit, and Marie flashed a coded signal with a flashlight. In seconds, her go-fast boat rumbled out of the night, and the two men held it securely alongside Pisces of Atë while Marie helped Marilyn aboard.

  "Gerald?" she asked, fear in her voice.

  "He's fine," Dani said. "Go on down; I'll be right with you."

  As Marilyn rushed into the main cabin, Marie climbed down into the speedboat, gave a quick wave, and roared away into the darkness.

  Chapter 36

  "You told them that the gold bar you showed us was counterfeit," Gerald said. Marilyn sat next to him, snuggled under his right arm. He had recovered quickly after a few cups of coffee.

  Bond looked at him sheepishly for a few beats. They were sitting around the cockpit table in the gray, early morning light, waiting for the Coast Guard cutter that had been diverted from a drug interdiction mission somewhere to the southwest. Dani had called Phillip; he and Denardo had made arrangements for a Coast Guard helicopter to fly them from San Juan to a rendezvous with the cutter.

  Bond looked down at his bandaged hand. Liz had cleaned up the damage as best she could with the first-aid supplies aboard, and they had moved into the cockpit to rehash their experience out of the hearing of their prisoner. Dani had finally gagged Meyers with duct tape to shut him up.

  "Well, Merrill?" Marilyn asked.

  Bond looked up. "It's true. I'm sorry."

  "Why did you do that?" Marilyn asked.

  "I needed the money for payroll and fixed expenses. We might still find it, you know."

  Marilyn shook her head. "Gerald and I will have to think it over. How long can you hold on without the money?"

  Gerald said, "I thought you already ... "

  "I called the bank," Marilyn said. "I had to make some sales to raise the cash. I haven't initiated a wire transfer yet."

  Gerald nodded. "I see. Well, Bond?"

  "A few days. I don't know. Maybe a week; I was hoping we'd find it."

  There was a minute or two of silence while they sipped coffee. Gerald finally broke it, asking, "Who was that woman?"

  "The redhead?" Liz asked.

  "No. The other one. She came in with you. I was in kind of a fog; they gave me some kind of drug. Did you call her Mary?"

  "Marie," Marilyn said. "Marie Lacroix. Yes, who is she, really?"

  Dani thought for a moment before she answered. "As far as I know, that's her name. She works for a man in Martinique who did a lot of business with Phillip Davis, who'll be here soon, and my father."

  "She's scary," Marilyn said. "Nice, but scary."

  "You definitely want her on your side; not the other one," Liz agreed.

  "What does she do for this man? He's your father's partner, you said earlier," Marilyn pressed.

  "Phillip's my father's partner, or was. Marie's boss is a sort of contractor."

  "What sort of contractor," Gerald asked. "This sounds like there might be a book in it, somewhere."

  "The sort of contractor that you shouldn't write about," Dani said. "It might be hazardous for you."

  "But what do they do, these people?" Gerald persisted.

  "Things that need to be done. I can't tell you any more."

  "Can't? Or won't?" Marilyn said.

  "Look," Liz interjected, seeing the color rising in Dani's cheeks, "we came through this intact, thanks to some people who value their privacy. Let's show our appreciation by respecting their wishes and enjoying the time they've given us. Once the cutter gets here, we can ... "

  "Speaking of the cutter," Dani said, standing and peering off to the west, "here they come."


  ****

  "Joe sends his best," Phillip said as they watched the big, orange RIB making its way back to the Coast Guard cutter with Meyers and the bodies aboard. Phillip had hitched a ride with the boarding party, but Joe Denardo had been tied up on a conference call aboard the cutter with the District Attorney in Savannah and the representatives of several federal organizations, all wanting to get their hands on Meyers for various reasons. "He swears he's going to take some time off and come down here one of these days."

  "We should do a free charter for him and a guest," Liz said.

  "I'll tell him, if you'd like," Phillip said, "but I know what he'd say. He's a 'by-the-book cop.' He'd have a problem accepting that kind of gift, I think."

  "So what's going to happen to this Meyers guy?" Marilyn asked.

  "Well, Joe and the D.A. want to put him away for murder; they've got an airtight case against him for having Beauregard killed, at a minimum."

  "I hear a 'but' in there," Gerald said.

  "There's definitely a 'but' in there," Phillip agreed. "Some of the Feds would like to get him alone long enough to let him commit suicide; some of them probably want to hire him. With guys like that, you can't tell. My money's on Denardo."

  "You really think some federal agency might protect him?" Marilyn asked.

  "Meyers has more enemies than friends among the Feds. But you can bet he could embarrass a few people in high places. If somebody manages to spring him, somebody else will put him out of our misery, now that he's visible. Guys like him are like vampires. They can't live in the sunlight."

  "I think we should get this boat back to Antigua," Liz said. "Merrill needs to get to a doctor; he needs some antibiotics for that hand."

  "And I could stand a few days of sleep," Dani said, rubbing her eyes.

  "I'll fire up the engines," Bond said. "Can one of you sailors handle the anchor windlass?"

  "No problem," Liz said, standing up and heading for the bow as the twin diesels roared to life.

  After a few minutes of backing and filling, Bond idled the engines and waved Liz back to the cockpit.

  "It's well and truly fouled," she said. "I can't imagine what it's hung on, but the chain was straight up and down and stretched so tight it was ringing with the vibration from the engines."

  "Yeah. I didn't want to give it any more power; I was afraid I'd tear the windlass loose," Bond said.

  "Since I'm the only one who slept last night, I'll go down and see if I can free it," Phillip offered. "You got some full tanks?"

  "You bet," Bond said. "Take your pick. He gestured at the racks of SCUBA tanks along the sides of the cockpit. Let me get you some gear."

  He started to go below, and then paused. "You want a wetsuit?"

  "I'd better. It might be hung up in coral; I don't need to get all scraped up if you've got suits."

  Bond nodded and went below.

  ****

  "He's been down there a long time," Gerald remarked, looking at his wristwatch. Thirty minutes — I figured ... " He stopped as Phillip's head broke the surface.

  Phillip held on to the swim platform with one hand and pushed his mask up on his forehead, grinning at the curious looks the others gave him.

  "Well?" Bond asked.

  "You had a good set. Anchor was completely buried in the sand. I dug down to it with the dive knife. When I finally got to the shank, I followed it to the flukes. They're wedged under these heavy old crates. We can probably break it out, now, but I don't know. I straddled the shank and put my feet on the bottom, thinking I'd be able to lift the crates enough with all that leverage, but no go."

  "Any markings on the crates?" Bond asked.

  "Yeah. Stenciled letters. They're pretty worn, but if I had to guess, I'd say they were 'CSA' or something like that."

  "You've got one hell of a poker face, Phillip," Gerald said.

  Phillip did his best to keep a puzzled look on his face as he said, "I don't understand," but the looks the others gave him caused him to break out in laughter.

  "You got bolt cutters?" he asked, after the shouts of joy died down."

  "Yeah," Bond said. "You thinking to buoy the anchor? I don't think ... "

  "Not buoy," Phillip said. "Give me a bucket or something like that, and about ten feet of line. I'll leave it on the surface of the sand."

  "You done this before?" Bond asked.

  "Something similar," Phillip said.

  Bond handed him the tools and one of the ubiquitous blue plastic buckets that were standard equipment on all the bareboat charters.

  After Phillip went down again, Marilyn asked, "Why the bucket?"

  "They get lost overboard all the time. If anybody found that on the bottom, they wouldn't even bother to pick it up," Bond said. "But a buoy, even if it was tied close to the bottom? That's different. Somebody would investigate that."

  "Speaking of investigating, there's one thing Dani and I have been wondering about, Gerald," Liz said.

  "Only one?"

  "Well, one that you might be able to answer."

  "I owe you two a lot more than an answer. Ask away."

  "You and your family, um, I guess that means you, too, Marilyn ... anyway, you knew about Phaedra all your lives, right?"

  "Yes." The beginnings of a grin lit Gerald's face. "I think I know what you're going to ask, but go ahead."

  "Why now? You, and Marilyn, and Beauregard — all three of you picked the same time to start looking. What triggered it?"

  "It was just an old family fable until last winter when there was a documentary about U.S. gold coins. They mentioned the New Orleans mint, and that it was taken over by the Confederacy. All the gold that was on hand disappeared." Gerald looked at Marilyn. "Right, cousin?"

  Marilyn smiled and nodded. "All of a sudden, it didn't seem quite so much like a family myth."

  "That makes sense," Liz said.

  "So what's next?" Dani asked.

  "A good night's sleep. Tomorrow, we'll get back out here and see what's down there in those crates. And Marilyn and I will move aboard Vengeance, still, if that's okay," Gerald said.

  Epilogue

  Two weeks later ...

  Vengeance was anchored in Gravenor Bay on the south end of Barbuda, tucked well up behind Spanish Point. Waves rolling in from Africa thousands of miles to the east broke on the coral reefs that surrounded the area, and the brisk trade winds filled the air with spume. It was early in the day. The sun, still low in the sky, imparted a golden glow to the salt mist that wafted all around them.

  Dani and Liz watched in silence as Marilyn and Gerald beached the dinghy less than 100 meters off their beam. A few feral donkeys, cropping the scrub that grew on the low dunes, seemed unperturbed by the visitors. Marilyn quickly unlimbered her camera and began snapping away. Gerald, hovering indulgently, held her gear bag.

  "He seems like a happy man, finally," Liz said, pouring the last of the coffee from the carafe into their cups.

  "He should be," Dani said. "He got everything he wanted. The book deal, the gold, ... "

  "And Marilyn," Liz said.

  "What do you mean? Look at the two of them. Am I missing something here?"

  "I don't know what you mean, Dani."

  "I don't think he got Marilyn. I think it's the other way around."

  "What difference does that make? They're together," Liz said. "It's a matter of perspective, I guess."

  "Marilyn's in charge. And why wouldn't she be? Why should he get to call all the shots?" Dani asked.

  "Like I said, it depends on how you look at it," Liz said. "He should at least be calling a few, don't you think? "

  "Well, she may let him, Liz. Just to keep him happy, if for no other reason. We can't know what goes on between them."

  "Well, you're right about that, for sure," Liz agreed.

  "But I still think she wears the pants," Dani added.

  Liz looked at Dani for a moment and then they both laughed. They finished their coffee in companionab
le silence.

  Liz set her empty mug on the cockpit seat, right next to the dutchman they had worked into the damaged teak decking. She ran a finger over the almost invisible joinery. "It's weathered nicely. If I didn't know, I couldn't tell there are two separate parts. You ever remember to look up the origin of the term 'dutchman?'"

  "Yes, but I didn't get definitive answer. It's been used for centuries, literally, in masonry work as well as in woodworking. Some people claim it's because the Dutch did sloppy work. Others say it's because of the finger in the dike thing. You know, to plug the hole. Then there's the idea that it's a tribute to the frugality of the Dutch. It depends on how you choose to look at it, I guess."

  "I suppose we don't have to understand it anymore than we understand Gerald and Marilyn, as long as it all fits together," Liz said.

  ****

  Read an excerpt from Bluewater Rendezvous, the next book in the series, beginning on the next page ...

  Chapter 1

  "Be careful what you say. I'm sure they're recording this."

  "I love you, Angie. I can't wait to see you, but this whole secrecy thing is nuts. Why can't we just — "

  "Don't say any more. I'm serious. Just follow the instructions that you're going to get. If they don't know where we're meeting, they can't stop us."

  "You think your father doesn't know who I am?"

  "Hush; I don't want to discuss it. It's too dangerous. You have no idea what's going on here, and I can't tell you until I see you. Just trust me, and be there."

  "I don't understand, Angie. It'll be great to have a couple or three weeks together, but then what? When it's over, he'll still be who he is and — "

  "I have to go. You remember how I told you to retrieve the message tomorrow night?"

  "Yes."

  "Then do it. Follow the instructions. Be there. I'll explain it all then." Angela hung up the phone before her resolve failed her.

  She lay in bed, contemplating what she had set in motion. She knew the risks she was running, but she saw no alternative to the course she had chosen. Her father wasn't the only stubborn one in the family, nor was he the only one who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. He had, after all, raised her. He was the one who had drawn the battle lines, but he had no idea what he was up against.