Bluewater Drone: The Eleventh Novel in the Caribbean Mystery and Adventure Series (Bluewater Thrillers Book 11)

by Charles Dougherty

  Bluewater Drone

  By C.L.R. Dougherty

  Copyright © 2016

  Charles L.R. Dougherty

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  Antigua

  Table of Contents

  BLUEWATER DRONE

  ANTIGUA

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  EPILOGUE

  A NOTE TO THE READER

  ABOUT C.L.R. DOUGHERTY

  OTHER BOOKS BY C.L.R. DOUGHERTY

  READ A SAMPLE OF BLUEWATER REVOLUTION

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  Chapter 1

  Dani let her eyes wander through the dimly lit bar. Dozens of sunburned tourists guzzled the potent rum drinks that were a feature of happy hour in the islands, but she wasn't interested in the tourists. Lifting her chilled white wine from the table where she sat alone, she took a measured sip.

  She turned to look at Liz, perched on a stool at the bar, chatting with their friend Maggie, the bartender. Liz smiled at something Maggie said and then saw Dani looking at them. She winked at Dani and inclined her head toward the entrance, directing Dani's attention to the man with well-barbered, curly brown hair who had just stepped through the door.

  Dani gasped; he was fine-looking. She put his age at about 30, and he looked at ease as he swept his gaze over the crowd. When his eyes locked with hers, she had to force herself to breathe. Catching herself before her jaw dropped, she remembered to give him a demure smile. He maintained eye contact long enough for her to feel her skin begin to flush with excitement.

  He raised his eyebrows, and she nodded, directing her eyes to the empty chair across from her. She struggled to remember how Liz had told her to behave as she watched him thread his way through the crowded space. She caught her breath when he stopped at her table.

  "May I?" He rested a manicured hand on the back of the vacant chair.

  She nodded, studying him, taking in the dark brown eyes and the flawless, tanned skin. She saw the tan lines on his right hand from a sailing glove or a golf glove. She couldn't tell which until she could see the other hand, which hung in shadow at his side as he waited for her answer.

  "If you wish," she said, feigning indifference, glad it was dark enough so that he couldn't see how flushed her skin was above the top of the strapless sundress that Liz had picked for her.

  He pulled the chair out and sat, as graceful as a big cat. "Good evening. I'm Kevin Strong," he said. "Most people call me Kev." He smiled in a way calculated to show off his bleached teeth.

  The teeth were just irregular enough to let Dani know that they were real. "Good evening, Kev. I'm Danielle Berger; call me Dani." She suppressed the impulse to offer him a firm handshake.

  Maggie arrived before either of them could fill the brief silence. "Good evening, sir. What can I get you to drink?"

  "Rum punch," he said, not looking at Maggie.

  She raised her eyebrows at Dani and stepped back to the bar, pouring punch from a frosted pitcher into a tall glass. As she set it on the table in front of him, she gave Dani a wink and tilted her head toward the bar, where Liz was grinning and giving Dani a thumbs-up sign.

  "To the beginning of a glorious evening in paradise," Kev said, raising his drink toward Dani.

  She picked up her glass and clicked it against his. "Cheers," she said, taking a sip of her wine.

  She noticed that there were no tan lines on his left hand as he rested it on the table. Golfer, she thought, disappointed.

  "What's that?" Kev asked.

  "What's what?" Dani asked, frowning.

  "I thought you said, 'golfer.'"

  "I did?"

  "I thought so, anyway."

  "Well?" she asked, her brow still creased.

  "Well, what, Dani?" Now he was frowning, too.

  "Well, are you?" She hesitated, saw that he was confused, and added, "A golfer?"

  "Yes. Why do you ask?"

  "Um ... I was hoping you were a sailor." She clenched her teeth, annoyed at her lack of composure.

  "Sorry to disappoint you," he said, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

  "I didn't mean that like it sounded," she said. "Golf's okay. I just thought ... "

  He waited for her to finish her sentence. When she didn't, he asked, "Do you golf?"

  She shook her head, trying to think of a way to change the subject. "Are you staying here at the resort?" she asked, looking for a neutral topic.

  "Yes. It's great. The course is just so-so, though. But you can't have everything; I guess it's suffered from the drought. Are you staying here, too?"

  "No," she said, shaking her head, dreading his next question. She couldn't think of a way to avoid it, nor could she come up with an answer that wouldn't lead where she didn't want to go.

  "You don't look like a native," he said, waiting. "Or are you?"

  "Why do you say I don't look like a native?" She frowned at this unexpected turn in the conversation.

  "Natives are color-coded," he said, grinning.

  Annoyed by his casual bigotry, she asked, "Where are you from?" She was still hoping to find a safe topic.

  "New York and L.A.," he said. "You?"

  Becoming uncomfortable with him, she said, "I live on a charter yacht that my partner and I run. So I guess I'm sort of a local, even if I'm white."

  "Uh-oh," Kev said. "Is he joining you here?"

  "He?" Dani asked, a tentative tone in her voice.

  "Your partner," Kev said.

  "She," Dani said, irritation replacing the confusion in her voice.

  "She, who? You lost me, Dani."

  "She, my partner."

  "Your partner's a woman?" He raised his eyebrows, his eyes wide with surprise.

  "Yes. Last time I checked she was. What of it?"

  "Uh, nothing. I mean you don't look like a ... It doesn't matter to ... Some of my best friends ... Are you?"

  "Are you trying to ask if I'm a lesbian?" She felt her initial flush of excitement changing to the heat of anger, with which she was better acquainted.

  He spread his hands, turning his palms up and rounding his shoulders. "Well," he said, eyes going wide with innocence, "after what you said, it's an honest — "

  Dani lurched to her feet, jarring the table and upsetting their drinks. "You bigoted asshole!"

  Dani felt Liz lock an arm through hers and pull her away from the table as Maggie rushed up with a handful of napkins to contain
the damage from the spilled drinks.

  Kev stood and tried to approach Dani, but Maggie stepped in front of him, shaking her head.

  "I'd just like to apologize," he said. "It was a misunderstanding. I could make it all — "

  "I don't think so, jerk," Dani hissed. "Cut your losses and get out of here while you're still in one piece."

  ****

  Andrei Ivanovitch Danilov sat at the desk in his stateroom on Platinum Odyssey studying the script that the American producer had sent. He sipped his after-dinner cognac as he read, imagining the actors and actresses as they brought the lines to life. Danilov had been an admirer of this man's work for years, from the time the would-be producer had been a fledgling actor. His track record as a producer had not been as successful as his acting career. The man had been plagued by poor financial decisions, both his own and his backers'. That lack of financial aptitude was part of what made him attractive to Danilov.

  As an actor, the man was amazing; he could project emotion like no one else. That was his strength, and Danilov was betting that he could lead an entire cast to reach the same dramatic heights that he himself scaled so easily.

  Danilov didn't make bets unless the odds were in his favor. He'd invested heavily in researching this man's previous failures as a producer. He'd paid a small fortune for the bankrupt production company that marked the beginning of the man's precipitous decline in the fickle world of Hollywood. The purchase had netted Danilov hours of film clips, scripts, production notes, and most comprehensible to Danilov, all the financial records.

  Aside from his Ivy League MBA, Danilov had the practical experience that came from surviving the collapse of Gorbachev's regime and the evolution of Russia's so-called economy since then. A junior KGB officer when Yeltsin came to power, Danilov had been one of the first to recognize the free-market opportunity presented by chaos. Since then, he had thrived. Invisible to most, he had become one of the world's wealthiest men.

  He had retained his insider status in the country's security organization and leveraged it to insure his success in the gray-market endeavors that had made his fortune. He still had some official status in the government, but it was of no consequence to him. He was one of the hidden ones, the ones who kept the government afloat, and he prospered as a result.

  He rarely set foot in his mother country now, preferring to live aboard Platinum Odyssey in the warmer parts of the world. In one more day, he would be in the azure waters of the Caribbean, where he would enjoy the months leading up to hurricane season. By the time the storms began brewing, he would be back in the Mediterranean for the summer.

  Between now and then, he would meet this man and see what he was made of. If he measured up, Danilov would fund his "epic fantasy film." He grinned at the Hollywood hype. Whether the film succeeded or failed would matter little to him. He would have a new game to play, new people to manipulate. And a big cash flow to hide some less-than-pristine revenue streams from his other, more profitable, activities.

  His rumination was interrupted by a knock on the door.

  "Come in," he called.

  The door opened, and a wiry man entered, his white uniform stained with fresh blood. He bowed slightly.

  "Well?" Danilov asked.

  "She still won't talk. I had to stop; if she dies, we will learn nothing."

  Danilov nodded. "Have you tried the drugs yet?"

  "No. She's not a good candidate right now. There's some indication of some sort of programming in the way she responds to my questions. If we use the drugs, the risk is that we'll hear only what we were meant to hear."

  "Well, you're the doctor. What do you recommend?"

  "We will get answers from her eventually. I need to let her recover a bit, and then I'll begin a new cycle."

  "Recover? Why?"

  "The same reason I don't want to use drugs. If I trigger a mental breakdown, we'll hear the program."

  "How long until you can start again?"

  The man shrugged. "Twenty-four hours. Maybe 48. She's lost a lot of blood; she's in shock after what you and Angelika and Baklanov did to her. If you have a deadline, we can always try the drugs."

  Danilov thought for a moment. "No. At this stage, accuracy is more important than speed. Carry on."

  The man nodded and left, closing the door behind him.

  ****

  "You know, the problem with a show named Off the Edge is that we have to film it in all these places that are a pain in the ass to get to," Blaine Wilkes said, sliding the key card into the door of the run-down motel near Miami's International Airport. He held the door open for his wife.

  "Don't be such a wuss," she said, brushing past him as she struggled with her share of their luggage. "It's a living, and we get to see some pretty out-of-the-ordinary places."

  "Yeah, I guess. But this isn't one of them."

  "Well, by this time tomorrow night we'll be on a luxury yacht in Antigua. And don't forget, there're two hot babes running it, in case you get bored with your wife." She dropped the heavy, armored case on the floor and slid it out of the way with her foot.

  "Careful with the cameras, Mindy," he said, dragging the two heavy duffle bags in behind him and kicking the door closed.

  "They'll survive; they've been through worse. Now, lighten up, will you?"

  "Yeah, yeah. You're just bent out of shape because the captain's not a hot guy; can't fool me. And don't give me grief about those two women. You made the charter arrangements."

  "I did," she said, "but I saw the way you were studying their pictures on the website."

  "I'm a photographer, Mindy; I was — "

  "Hey! Come on, Blaine. Can't I tease you? When you get all nervous and jerky, it makes me wonder if — "

  "It's always the same tease, Mindy. One lousy time I messed up. How long do I have to pay for one mistake?"

  "Okay, okay. But you've got to admit, she was a doozy."

  "Yeah, she was. But you got some good footage while I kept her busy."

  "That's true. Until she saw me filming and raised her price midstream. Your face when she stopped cold like that is what sold it. After that, she was trying to be an actress. Not what we usually shoot, but, hey! We did make some money off that little side job."

  "Speaking of making some money on the side, we need to follow up on that rumor about a movie in the works in Antigua." Blaine kicked his shoes off and sat down on the edge of the bed.

  "Yeah. I hear Antigua's like a small town. It probably won't be too hard to pick up on what's going on there. Maybe the two women who run the boat will even know. I'll bet they spend enough time there to be plugged in to what's happening."

  "It'd be great if we could get some candid shots of some big names while they've got their, um ... hair down. We haven't sold anything to the tabloids in a while."

  "Yeah, well, if it happens, cool. But we gotta stay on track. Off the Edge is a steady income, as long as we meet the deadlines. I don't want to screw that up because you're trying to catch some starlet with over-sized implants sunbathing nude."

  "Me? How about that time you fell out of the tree right in front of ... what the hell was his name, anyway? That guy that was chokin' his chicken by the pool at that place in Thailand? He used to star in — "

  "Oh, shut up, Blaine. This is the last night before we have to behave ourselves." Mindy stepped out of her jeans and pulled the T-shirt over her head before she dove onto the king-sized bed. "Make me feel good, lover."

  Chapter 2

  "I didn't, Liz!" Dani smacked her coffee mug down on the cockpit table.

  "Only because I put a bar hammerlock on you. I saw that look in your eyes."

  "It could have been passion; you didn't know."

  "It was passion, all right. You were about to passionately kick his ass. Don't tell me I can't read the signs when you're about to lose it."

  "Well, he provoked me."

  "No doubt about that. You were doing well until you decided to waste him, though." />
  "So you don't think I'm a total failure?"

  "Not total, but you definitely need some more work. Did he really ask if you were lesbian?"

  "All but. I guess I could have handled that better, huh?"

  "It all depends on what you wanted to get out of the encounter. He was awfully good-looking."

  "Yes, that's true. But he was soft; he wouldn't stand a chance in a local bar on Saturday night where I grew up."

  "Neither would Genghis Kahn — not if you were there. But I've told you, this is practice. We're not talking about mating for life, here. You just wanted to be able to meet new guys when you felt like it. If you're looking for somebody to cover your back in a fight, you don't need my advice."

  "That's true, oh Liz the Love Guru. Speaking of which, are you going to keep seeing that guy in St. Lucia?"

  "You mean Cedric?"

  "Yes. What's his last name, anyway?"

  "Jones."

  "You're lying; Cedric Jones is my father's age. I know Cedric Jones."

  "The police commissioner's his uncle, Dani. He's named after him."

  "Oh. Well, anyway, do I need to be looking for a new partner?"

  Liz laughed at that. "Dani, he's just a nice guy, okay?"

  "I saw the way you looked at him when he met us for drinks the other night."

  "I've told you, if you want a man's attention, how you look at him is important."

  "But you touched him on his arm, and when you walked out of there, he put his arm around you and rested his hand on your hip, like ... "

  "Like we were dancing, Dani. Or practicing judo, maybe, to put it in terms you'd grasp."

  "So, are you two dating? Or just ... "

  "Dani, he took me out to dinner. We enjoyed one another's company for the evening. That's it. Full stop. I wouldn't say we're dating. It might come to that, but I doubt it. The chemistry's not really there — not for me, and I don't think for him, either. But we might go out together when we're in St. Lucia, if neither of us is in a serious relationship with someone. We had fun; it's a good way to meet people who might turn into romantic interests."

  "So you're saying I should have let that shithead take me out to dinner?"

  "I wouldn't presume to tell you who you should go out with; I'm just here to coach you on tactics. Matchmaking's out of my league. If he made your skin crawl, then you were right to cut it off. You could have probably done it more diplomatically, though."