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

by Ed Teja

  Inspector George sat back and nodded. “I suspect you heard it on the news.” I looked to see if he was joking. “That’s the name of the man the minister is bringing to this island tomorrow.”

  Alarm bells went off, and the inspector saw I’d finally made the connection. “This Miller, the marked man, is the same developer the minister is trying to convince to invest money in our little island.”

  The connection finally dawned on me. “And you think the appearance of our sinister threesome just before he arrives is far more than an interesting coincidence.”

  He clucked. “I do. My friend thinks so too. But that doesn’t clear up all the other confusion, all this stuff going on.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “All right… if any of these people, say your lady friend, came here to… convince that contracting man of the error of his ways, or to make an example of him, why would she get here so far ahead of time and then start raising sand, killing that yachtie and stealing a boat? Or, if she is telling the truth, and the killing is Nate’s, and not hers, then why is she running from him? Why is he after her? And why would a professional killer approach you and start telling stories about escaped mental patients and the like? None of that makes sense. If either of them was here as a professional killer, you’d think they’d want to get here and keep a low profile. I’d expect them to act like other tourists.”

  “I agree. That doesn’t make much sense on the face of it,” I said. “There is something going on with these three that is muddying the waters.” I gave him a cheerful smile. “The good news is that now that you know all this, you have time to warn the minister to cancel the trip. You get to be a hero.”

  He shook his head. “As soon as I got word, I called the minister’s office. But it seems I am most certainly wrong about everything.”

  A laugh burst out of me. “You are?”

  “Some assistant explained the facts to me, that it cannot possibly be true that the minister’s personal guest, a man staying at his villa, a man who is also a friend, can in any way be affiliated with any form of organized crime. I must have him confused with another person.”

  “They refuse to acknowledge that there is any threat at all.”

  “Pretty damn much. Furthermore, they told me that if there are such people on we island, professional killers, that is, it is up to local law enforcement to have them in jail by the time the minister arrives. The people over there made it damn clear that he ain’t going to appreciate anyone creating any sort of fuss during his photo opportunities.”

  “Maybe we could tell them that some Obeah woman put a curse on developers visiting the island.”

  That got me a grin. “Good try, but officially, such ancient superstitions don’t exist any more than official corruption.”

  “Still, it might make them think twice.”

  “It might, if it weren’t for the fact that the minister himself is a proud preacher man and don’t think it would be fit his image to let some heathen devil prevent him from going about his business. He got his face set on modernizing the islands and they damn well gonna be modernized.”

  “Modernized!” I spit the word out. “Why do politicians always use that ugly word, modernizing, like it means something inherently good? These fools are gonna pave the island with concrete and build dozens of butt-ugly buildings and then funnel the money they generate off island. That’s why the phrase ‘set in concrete’ means ‘fixed’ and that things can’t be adapted.”

  Inspector George laughed. “Tell you what, after this is over, maybe I can arrange for you, and Mr. Miller, and the minister to all have a cozy little sit down so you can have a nice chat about them things. You might make some sort of philosophical breakthrough.”

  “That’s more Bill’s turf. He could convince a stoic to read the news and worry.”

  “Well, even so, meantime, I gotta figure out how to protect some idiots who don’t want to hear the truth or even take a serious threat seriously.”

  “Seriously?” I teased. “I understand. It’s out of your hands.”

  He held his hands out, studying them, turning them one way and the other. “Things like that are never in control of hands like these.”

  “Inspector George, those look like pretty competent hands to me,” I told him.

  He glanced at me, wanting to see if I was still joking. I wasn’t.

  “Well, with a bit of help, they gonna do what they can.”

  “That’s all anyone can do,” I told him.

  He smiled. “Then best you remember that too,” he said. “You intending to save Gazele right now, and first you need to find her. So that’s the job, and I wish I could be helping you with that instead of putting my effort on this protection detail.”

  “No, that’s fine. You have to do your job. I appreciate your support.”

  He touched my arm. “You have it. You do your best to find that woman and I’ll do my best to find this Donna and are going agree that, however things come out, we did everything we could. These things are gonna work out the way they do.”

  “They always do,” I said.

  “And sometimes the hard is living with whatever outcome you get.” He sighed. “We all have to do that.”

  It wasn’t exactly a speech to pump a guy up, but I appreciate a person who doesn’t try to hide from truth. That’s why Gazele’s analysis of me, although it seemed harsh, made me appreciate her more, and now had to admire Inspector George’s ability to see things as they were and accept them.

  “We will do our best. If we find her… when we find her, if this Nick character puts up a fight—”

  He waved a hand. “Captain, once a man kidnaps a person, as far as I’m concerned, he has already forfeited his own,” he said. “However, if you managed to get him to me in a state where he can talk, it could be helpful to me in finding out what the hell they are up to. It could help me keep harm from the minister’s special guest.”

  “Guest and friend.”

  “Right.”

  I held out a hand, and he took it. “We will both do our best,” I said. “I promise I’ll try to make sure he’s in good enough condition to answer your questions.”

  “We gonna both do our best. I got men looking for this Donna still. It would solve all our problems if we could grab them both.”

  “We will do our best,” I said. “Both of us.”

  “And hope it’s enough,” he said.

  “Me too.”

  21

  The aftermath of the chaos that had come with Nate’s assault and death had resulted in a lot of finger pointing and loud accusations that accomplished nothing except allowing people to let off steam.

  It was still going on when I left the inspector, heading out into the open air, hoping that the fresh morning air and soft light would help my head stop ringing. It was vibrating from all the conflicting thoughts, plans, concerns. With my brain occupied with reviewing everything that had happened and then applying its normal, rather cynical 20/20 hindsight to the task of pointing out the things I should have done differently or might have done that I didn’t, my steps took me to The Barracuda.

  I slumped down on a barstool, my tired brain still reeling. Sally gave me an appraising glance, then wordlessly poured a mug of hot coffee and put it in front of me.

  I looked at her, smiling my thanks and realizing one aspect of this woman that made Bill appreciate her so much. “You and Bill and them gonna find her,” she said. “Count on it. This ain’t the least bit near over.”

  Not as certain or confident in the future as Sally seemed to be, I sighed. “Thanks,” I said. The kind words meant as much as the gesture of coffee.

  She patted my hand. “Real soon, you and the big man gonna find where this next man took Gazele and you gonna kick his ass.”

  “I’m all set for the kicking ass part,” I said. “Finding her is the trick. Then I just have to get to Nick before Jeff does.”


  “That be a fact.”

  I glanced over at the UHF radio behind the bar, set low, monitoring the fishermen’s channel. “Nothing coming across?”

  Sally glanced up, then saw where I was looking and shook her head. “Been pretty damn quiet, boy. Some of them are talking about where the fish be, and Jackson getting them more organized about scouting bays than I thought was possible. Them fishermen are about as independent as cats. But Jackson pointing out that whether they catch fish or not, if they don’t find her soon, they gonna catch hell from Gazele. And if she let them off the hook, he won’t.”

  “I can picture Jackson, with his eyes bulging the way they do when he is getting himself worked up.”

  She whistled. “That’s what he sounded like to me.”

  “I can’t believe that no one has seen that yacht.”

  “A lot of yachts been coming through, stopping in the bays one plastic yacht look like all the rest.”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Finding the right one seems to be the hard part.” She grabbed a rag and mopped down the bar, which was already spotless. “You don’t worry, though. The fishing boats just heading out for the day now and Jackson making sure they gonna be scouting the bays as they head out to fish.”

  I sighed. “I think I should be doing something.”

  She scowled and wiped a spot on the bar she’d already wiped several times. Even I knew it was a place where someone had gouged the varnish a number of years ago. After a few fierce rubs, she looked at me. “Damn it boy, we all want to be doing something. You either got to learn some patience, either that or move your ass up to New York or some other crazy place where they all the time wanting things done yesterday.”

  I held up my hands. “I’m trying, Sally.”

  “Good. Now, meantime, don’t you go putting your mind and heart into some deep place with dark thought. You need to have yourself ready or you can’t do her no good at all when we do find her.”

  “I’m working on that too.” I forced a smile. “See me being all positive and ready?”

  She grinned and moved down the bar. “Exactly right. Exactly right, I saying.”

  I sipped the coffee, but it seemed tasteless and for once it didn’t lift my spirits. I had an ear focused on the radio. A few boats mentioned looking for DANCER, but they were all coming up empty. Mostly, they were just keeping an eye out, not really searching. I wondered if I could pass the hat and get enough to make it worthwhile to put out the word of a reward. It was worth a try.

  I don’t know how long I sat there on that barstool, slowly sipping the coffee and all the time wallowing in dark thoughts that, as Sally had suggested, did nothing but make me feel miserable about letting Gazele down. It’s an awful feeling and not constructive. But, other than getting together a reward, I was out of ideas. Nate had been the lead back to Gazele.

  I read once, probably in a book Ugly Bill talked me into reading, that it was the stoics who advocated only worrying about things you can control and letting go of the rest. A guy named Epictetus, I think, said that if you can’t control something, you have to accept it as it is. Personally, I figure if the stoics could do that, honestly, they were better men than I. Sure, I could push the idea that I’d fucked up out of my head for a time, and even block out the idea that if something bad happened to Gazele because my plan went sideways, then it was my fault and Jeff had every reason to bust me in the face. With some work, I could even think about something else for a moment or two, like a shipper up in St. Maarten who had suggested he might have a cargo for us next month, for instance. I made a mental note to give him a call, just to stay in touch, remind him that he’d more or less promised us the work.

  But no sooner did I finish that thought then my stomach would tighten up, and I’d find images of Gazele stuck on the yacht with Nick in my head.

  It didn’t help that we had no idea what Nick’s instructions were; if Nate had arranged to call him at some time; if he had some scheduled time to kill Gazele if he didn’t hear from the man.

  If I were a bad guy, I think that’s what I’d do, but that isn’t a productive line of thought. I made myself think that he’d keep her alive on the off chance that she’d be useful. But then I wasn’t a bad guy and couldn’t really make an educated guess. It was all hoping. I might as well hope they’d take her to another island and kick her off, put her ashore to find her way home.

  After a time, Jeff wandered in wearing a long, sad face. “I so pissed at that police man,” he said.

  “He was scared,” I said. “More of you, than Nate.”

  “He pissed his pants,” Jeff said, shaking his head.

  “I didn’t need to know that,” I told him.

  Inspector George came in with Bill and they took a seat at a table, with Jeff adding his glum face to their somber party. I stayed at the bar and Sally refilled my coffee and we all wallowed in the glum cloud that descended.

  Jackson came into the bar, and his face was beaming. “You look pleased with yourself,” I said.

  He laughed. “Well, I was heading for my boat when I got me a call about that yacht name of DANCER. I might be of some help.”

  I pointed to the radio. “We heard nothing. Not a peep.”

  Jackson smiled. “The message came from a man trying to do a little extracurricular importing.”

  “Smuggling?” I asked.

  “That’s what you call a disputed matter,” Jackson said. “They be folks calling it that and others who think it little more than engaging in what we call free enterprise.”

  “The folks who work for the customs office and coast guard are the ones who are critical of such behavior, I’m guessing,” Inspector George said.

  Jackson gave him a huge grin. “You so right. The customs peoples can be some cantankerous folks,” he said. “They not so much in favor of free markets as a person would expect.” With a wary glance in the direction of the inspector, Jackson whispered. “Being smart boys, they know the law monitors that channel nowadays and they all shifted over to cell phones. They connect in a group that is using Signal.”

  I didn’t know or care what the hell Signal was. “What did they say, damn it?”

  “He found the boat you are looking for.”

  “Holy shit!”

  I shouted loud enough that Jeff jumped up and came running over. “You found something?”

  “A boat called DANCER,” Jackson said. “She is anchored over on the north side…” he waved his arm. “She’s in Crawford Bay… sitting right there on the east side, just off the old irrigation pump.”

  “I know that place,” Jeff said. “It’s a lousy anchorage, pretty rolly because of being open to the east a bit, but a good spot to hide.”

  Jackson rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah, you can’t see nothing from outside the bay. I suppose that’s why it was a… discreet trading man who found her. I’m told it’s a smart place to sit and wait to connect with distributors from shore.”

  Jeff grabbed my wrist. “Let’s go. I got my boat all gassed up and a sharp machete. Now we know where they is, we can go cut that bastard’s head off.”

  “I’m afraid can’t let you do that,” the inspector told him. “When we see the man, well, I’m afraid I have to insist you arrest him.”

  Jeff glared at Inspector George. “If you can’t let me do that, then how about we don’t take you along?” he asked reasonably.

  The inspector clucked his tongue. “Sorry, Jeff, but if you kill that man, then I’ll have to arrest you. I wouldn’t want to have to charge you with the murder of a man like that, for certain.”

  “Is there a crime called ‘premeditated decapitation’?” Bill asked.

  The Inspector chortled. “Murder about covers it, regardless.”

  “Even if it was accidental?” Jeff asked.

  “You standing here and planning to do it before you leave makes it real hard for me to justify calling it an accident,” the good
inspector said, sound like a teacher with an unruly student.

  “Saying you gonna do something ain’t the same as making a plan,” Jeff said. “I mean, I ain’t even decided for certain if I’d use a machete or an axe.”

  Inspector George shook his head. “Well, as you were hoping, I’m not gonna be there.”

  “You aren’t coming with us?” I asked.

  “That damn Minister is sending his people over from St. Agnes and I am supposed to show them the security arrangements for the big man’s visit tomorrow personally. You and Martin and whoever else can go. Get the hell outta here and rescue your sister, but don’t let me find out you cut off any heads.” He pointed a finger at Jeff. “I’m making you responsible for getting that man back here in one piece and able to talk. I want to get the truth about other matters out of him, and then we gonna be fine.”

  Jeff glared. “And after that?”

  “We will see.”

  Jeff snorted, but wisely let the matter drop, turning his attention to Bill.

  “If we roar up in Jeff’s boat, Nick will hear us coming even before he sees us,” Bill said. “It’s not like we can sneak up on him.”

  Jeff screwed up his face. “Yeah. And he might hurt Gazele.”

  “Or make us leave again by threatening to hurt her.”

  “That means we need to find a way to surprise him.”

  “Like what? My boat is fast, but not too good for sneaking up on a man.”

  “Those big motors certainly are noisy,” I said.

  Bill shrugged. “We just have to accept that he will see or hear us when we come into the bay. I’ve got an idea or two for cover stories, making us coming into the bay no big deal.”

  “He is going to notice.”

  “But there are reasons for people going there that have nothing to do with them. Even this Nate is smart enough not to think every boat he sees has arrived to rescue Gazele. Once we are there, we settle in for a bit, let him see us. And at the right time, we execute up a clever distraction.”

  “Distraction?” Jeff snorted. “You think we can say ‘boo’ and make him look the wrong way?”