In Harm's Way (A Martin Billings Story Book 3)

by Ed Teja

  You could tell that he didn’t much like being relegated to the search team, but he understood.

  I nudged him. “You’ll get a shot at them, I’m betting.”

  “Fine,” he said, meaning it, but disappointed. He wanted to crack some heads open.

  There didn’t seem much left to say, and I looked around at the men who had formed this ragtag rescue team, taking in their faces. They were good men, and determined, and there was nothing else any of us could say.

  Inspector George stood. “Well, seeing as we got us a plan, we best get started or when we get her free, Gazele gonna kick our butts for stalling around so damn long.”

  That got a smile from Jeff. “For sure, Inspector.”

  The inspector winked. “How about you go with me to the guest house? You and me can stroll over there like we scouting out a room that I gonna keep my prisoner in.” As Jeff nodded and got to his feet, the inspector looked at me. “One of my constables got him a girlfriend about the right size and he asked her to get over to the jail. A bit later we gonna escort her over to the guest house under guard in case anybody watching.”

  I admired his thoroughness. “Perfect. Then after dinner tonight Bill and I will sneak in and take turns babysitting the room.”

  Bill shook his head. “Wrong. Assume for a moment that Nate works out that the story is true, but doesn’t figure out where she is. What do you think he’d do? What would you do in his place?”

  “I’d follow me.”

  That earned me a smile. “Bingo. So if he goes for the bait, after dark you will sneak over there, but a wandering route, and then break into the room.”

  “What will you do?”

  “I’ll help put together a little group to close the trap once he’s inside.”

  As the inspector and Jeff left, I flagged down a flustered Sally and asked for fish a chips. And a beer.

  “You got it,” she said, heading for the kitchen.

  “You are hungry at a time like this?” Bill asked.

  “Being sneaky and all burns a lot of calories. I can’t see fighting crime on an empty stomach.”

  Bill turned that over for a moment, then sighed. “I haven’t managed to make you completely literate yet, but you have your moments, Junior.” Then he pushed back from the table. “I’ll join you.”

  As he stood, Sally came by and put a round of beers on the table. “I already ordered for you, big man. Can’t have you saving the world and such without a good meal in you.”

  She knew her man well.

  17

  Cranking up the rumor mill, the first part of the program, went pretty much according to plan. It didn’t take long before people were wandering into The Barracuda and telling us the story of how Inspector George had arrested a suspect for the killing of the yachtsman from the boat that got put up on French Reef.

  “Seems it was a woman. Some woman from New York, I hear.”

  Inspector George came in and ignored the people trying to get more information with some canned words about not being able to discuss an ongoing investigation. Something right out of the Scotland Yard playbook, I imagined.

  “Everything is in place,” he said quietly as he sipped a beer. The man was loosening up nicely. “We had a few curiosity seekers noticing us escorting her to the guesthouse, and the men all enjoyed saying ‘no comment’ like they had inside information.

  “When will you call?” Jeff asked.

  “Now,” I said.

  I was sweating as I picked up my phone and called Nate. It seemed a relief when he answered. “Okay, I’ve got your package,” I said. “Let’s talk the swap. Sooner rather than later.”

  Bill had warned me to keep my story as simple as possible, pointing out that my inability to lie convincingly was part of the reason I so passionately disliked gambling for money.

  “Bullshit,” Nate said. “The word’s out. You don’t have her, the police do. She got busted.”

  Sometimes, the speed that a rumor travels exceeds that of light by a substantial margin. It’s a fact. Look it up. “So what?”

  “That means you don’t have her, and I don’t need you.”

  We were spiraling down through the story layers quickly, and I focused on keeping the threads of the plot clearly in mind. “Sure you need me. You don’t know where she is and I do.

  “Probably in jail, seeing as she was arrested.”

  I laughed. “Okay, then have yourself a good time breaking her out of there. Pack a lunch.”

  “You don’t think I can?” He sounded insulted, offended.

  “I’m sure you can get in the jail. It’s just that once you do, you’ll be sorely disappointed.”

  “She isn’t in the jail? Why the hell not? If she’s under arrest—”

  “It’s my fault. I told the inspector you seemed hell-bent on taking her away from here and that I wasn’t certain you cared if you had to kill her.”

  “And he believed you?”

  “Well, he knows his jail is not an impregnable fortress. I guess he opted not to risk doubting me. Or maybe he intends to renovate the place. Whatever his reasoning, the point is that she isn’t there.”

  He mulled that over. “And you know where they are holding her?”

  “I do. And I’ve mapped out a way to get to her.”

  “And then what?”

  “Then I’ll make her think I’m breaking her out and hide her until… until whenever you get your act together for the swap. Assuming you are interested and Gazele is still alive, that is.”

  “She is.”

  “Well, although I hate to say it, you haven’t proven to be trustworthy. I’m not sticking my neck out, going to the trouble of breaking out a prisoner for you without some real proof that Gazele is alive and healthy. If you can’t provide that, there is no way I’m letting you get close to Donna. See, if you don’t have anything to trade, a healthy Gazele, there is no deal.”

  He paused, and I heard the hum of people in the background. “It will take me a little time. I’ll check your story about the jail. If you aren’t bullshitting me, then I’ll let you talk to her.”

  “And then we will set up the swap?”

  “Right.”

  “Don’t take too long,” I said.

  “What’s your rush?”

  “Well, I know you have a ticking clock — you told me that yourself. If you take too long, I’ll have to assume you can’t, or don’t want to make the swap. In that case, I’ll have to give the inspector a heads up that you are planning something.”

  “Aren’t you the clever bastard?”

  “I’ve been called worse things.”

  “It will be soon,” he said, and broke off the call.

  “Now what?” Bill asked.

  “I suggest we eat dinner, because we are going to have to wait,” I said. “He has to convince himself that there is no one in the cell, maybe even find out where she is, and then arrange for me to talk to Gazele.”

  “Would be nice if we could track his phone,” Bill said. “He’d lead us to Gazele.”

  “I could call my friends at Scotland Yard and ask for help,” Inspector George said. “Of course, getting assistance would require the signatures of two prime ministers, and probably their mothers, on thirty pages of paperwork, which has to be filled out in triplicate, to get things started. Then there would be the inevitable exchange of personnel for cross training. And funding is always an issue. But we can do it, if you have about two years to make it happen.”

  “So we wait,” Bill said. “I was just thinking how the cops on television shows seem to have life a lot easier. Maybe you could sell advertising space on the police station walls to fund a little higher tech gear.”

  “I’m happy enough that this government can supply us with cell phones,” Inspector George said. “But I can bring that up with the ministers.”

  So we waited, with Inspector George actually telling a few stories about hi
s time at Scotland Yard, and Bill telling one about some famous wrestler who had been a drinking buddy back in the day.

  Finally, as Jeff came walking in, the call came. I put it on speaker and put the phone on the table.

  “Martin,” Gazele said.

  “Are you okay?” I asked before realizing what a stupid question that was. “I mean given that you have been kidnapped and all.”

  “We here, sis,” Jeff said.

  “I getting by. A little seasick is all.”

  “Watch that,” someone, probably Nick shouted.

  “We already guessed you were holding her on your boat, moron,” I said. “Look, Gazele, we are going to get you home as quick as we can.”

  “You best do that,” she said. “All the time I been here and this man ain’t so much as offered me glass of rum.”

  “Inhumane treatment,” I said.

  She managed a chuckle. “Damn right.”

  “That’s enough chitchat,” Nick said. “You wanted to know she was alive, and now you know she is.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “What?”

  “That might have been a recording,” I said.

  “Are you nuts?”

  “I’m very predictable. You might have made her record this to play us for fools.”

  “Sure thing!” Gazele said. “That’s the kind of nasty trick men like you try to fool the people with.”

  “It’s not a recording,” he said.

  “How do I know that?”

  “She’s answering your questions.”

  “Like he said, he’s predictable. Anyone can build an artificial intelligence system to do that,” Bill said. “It’s a fundamental step in passing a Turing test.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” Nick screamed.

  “That we want proof she is alive.”

  “And you’ve got it,” he said, cutting off the call.

  “That was entertaining,” Inspector George said. “Were you trying to aggravate him?”

  “I just thought my witty banter would help keep Gazele’s spirits up. But, hey, if it pissed Nick off, well, that’s a bonus.”

  When the phone rang again, it was Nate. “Nick is pretty sure you are a nutcase,” he said.

  “Thing is, he’s right,” I said. “I’m totally crazy, even now, when I know Gazele is alive. I’m not right in the head. You probably don’t want to share this island with me if anything bad happens to her.”

  He snorted at my bluster, clearly not particularly impressed, “Fair enough. I think we should make the swap in daylight.”

  “Afraid of the dark? What about your ticking clock?”

  “Tomorrow morning about ten. I want to be able to see.”

  “Well, I usually sleep in, but I can make an exception for a special event.”

  “There is a beach over on the north side of the island that seems pretty deserted. On the chart I’ve got, it’s called Warden Beach.”

  I looked at Jeff, who screwed up his face. “I know it,” he said.

  “Okay. And the protocol?”

  He paused. “Protocol?”

  “Who does what, when, where, and how.”

  “Oh, that shit. Simple. You go ashore with Donna and a driver. No one else. You get out and send the boat back out to sea. I’ll come ashore with Gazele and we will trade partners. Then I’ll leave. When I’m out of sight, you can call your boat to come pick you up.”

  The plan left a lot to be desired, and was perfect for an ambush, but given that the exchange wasn’t likely to happen anyway, I didn’t see the point in arguing about details.

  “And that’s it?”

  “That’s it. We both get what we want.”

  “What liars,” Bill said when the call ended.

  “Which one of us?” I asked.

  “Both of you,” he said.

  “When you lie for official purposes, it is called negotiating,” Inspector George said.

  “Lies through and through.”

  Whatever you called what we’d done, at this point, the game was on.

  18

  Before we left The Barracuda, I had Gracie make me up a couple of sandwiches and a thermos of coffee. Gazele kept cheap thermos bottles around that the fisherman would take when they went out in the mornings.

  “Planning a picnic?” Bill asked.

  “All I know is I’ll need to be alert. After I get in the room, I need to wait until Nate or Nick joins us. If no one shows, then it will be a long night and I get sleepy when I’m hungry.”

  Then we headed down to Gazele’s guesthouse. Although it was getting late, all along the way people came up to us, eagerly wanting information. “The police got that woman, did they?” an old man asked.

  “That’s what we heard,” Bill said.

  “You gonna identify that woman for the police?” the lady I knew as the roti seller on the dock asked, taking my hand. “What she like?”

  I had to hand it to Inspector George for his work in putting on his part of the charade. Everyone on the island seemed to be aware that the police had escorted a mystery woman to the guesthouse and that she’d had a coat over her head.

  Naturally, because they knew the police were looking for a foreign woman, it didn’t occur to anyone that they might know the lady — they weren’t looking to see anyone familiar. In fact, they pretty much saw what they wanted to see.

  “She got mean eyes,” one old woman said. “A killer’s eyes.” Others nodded in solemn agreement, despite the fact that not one of them could have seen her face and, if they had, probably would have recognized her.

  Besides, if it had been Donna, mean didn’t seem the right way to describe her eyes.

  We arrived at the guesthouse and stopped a distance from it, looking at the uniformed constable, armed with a sidearm, standing stiffly outside the front door. “He looks more ready for inspection than serious trouble,” I said.

  “Well, you know it’s more important to look good than to do anything well,” Bill laughed.

  We circled to the side, where the window of the room they’d picked glowed with soft light. I pulled out a small pair of binoculars and scanned the building, looking in through the window. Nothing moved.

  I touched his arm. “You good for an all-nighter?”

  “Sure. Always. Unless I see him follow you right in, I figure I can scout the area, make sure he isn’t just sitting somewhere watching. If it’s clear, I’ll take up a post out here on this hillside. It will give me a good view of watchers… anyone checking out the premises.”

  “You don’t mind being out here?”

  “I do like being out in the open air,” he said. “As long as it doesn’t rain, of course. ‘Thy ways are free, as is the wandering wind.’ That’s from God of the Open Air, by Henry Van Dyke.”

  “Good to know about your free ways and the wandering wind. And I like your plan.”

  “Concerning the literary reference, you know I feel it’s my obligation and privilege to improve your education on a continuing basis, Junior. But the best part of my tactics are that I get to stay outside and be the rescuing hero while you go inside and play the evil kidnapper who is convincing the mythical little black woman held prisoner there that you have come to free her.”

  “I also have to play the petite, black, possibly cold-blooded killer woman with a New York accent. Do you think I can pull it off?”

  “I heard a rumor that your audition wasn’t great, but I gotta admit that it’s a grand example of casting against type.”

  “But I’ve got the part of the stunt double, I’m not playing the role.”

  “Good thing.”

  “Should we scout the area?”

  Bill snorted. “We are hoping he is in place and follows you in,” he said.

  That was true. So, leaving Bill to circle the building and eventually move into position on higher ground, I skirted the building. I needed to pretend to m
ake a stealthy entrance, just in case our little drama had an audience.

  The room they’d chosen was on the second floor and its window was barred. Jeff and the inspector had been of the opinion that it wouldn’t be convincing to have her on the ground floor. I was pretty sure they just wanted to make me work.

  I got to the back porch. Happily, it was covered, and the support structure provided a means of getting up. It wasn’t hard to scale, and I got to the roof without much trouble. Shuffling up, it wasn’t hard to get to an open window that led to the hallway. I knew there would be a roving patrolman. Nate would be suspicious if there wasn’t one, and he’d been briefed not to arrest me.

  I’d been in the guesthouse once before, when I’d stayed overnight while waiting for Bill to bring HARM in from somewhere or another. It hadn’t changed at all. I knew the front door led into a sitting room that served as a common room for guests. The kitchen was straight in back; downstairs there was a single bedroom that was usually occupied by the woman who cleaned the place. For the purposes of our play, she’d been evicted for the night, sent out amongst the people to declare about how the police had taken over the whole damn building for one little woman, and how unfair that was. I was certain she was having the time of her life.

  I found the policeman who was supposed to be roving standing at the bottom of the stairs. He probably realized he wasn’t on camera and the inspector wouldn’t sneak up on him there. My stealthy decent startled him, catching him slumping against the wall, smoking a cigarette.

  “All quiet?” I asked.

  “Not a damn thing happening.”

  “Stay alert. If anything happens tonight, it will happen fast,” I said. “What are your orders?”

  “If someone comes in quiet, I stay out of the way, like I didn’t see nothing. But if he is coming out, I supposed to stop the man.”

  “We need him alive.”

  “To find Gazele.”

  “That’s it.”

  Eagerness flickered in his eyes. The boy was ready to prove he was a man, a worthy police officer. “I gonna catch the man.”

  I patted his shoulder. “We will do it together. I’ll be in the room waiting for him when he pops in. I’d hate to have him make an entrance and find it empty. If I’m in there, no matter how he arrives, I’ll be waiting for him.”