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

by Charles Dougherty

  "He sure was. He'd just asked me to join him for dinner, too. Then his phone rang."

  "He took the call at the table," Liz said. "Did you eavesdrop?"

  Dani cut her eyes at her friend, then realized Liz couldn't see her sarcastic look in the gloom under the boardwalk. "Yes, of course. The arrogant prick was speaking Spanish, so he thought I couldn't understand what was going on."

  "Well?" Liz prompted.

  "I could only hear his side, but apparently she demanded that he meet her on the beach, right away. He tried to explain that he was busy. He told her that he had dinner plans with me, but it didn't matter to her. She was screeching at him. I couldn't make out what she said, but I could tell she wasn't happy. He disconnected and apologized to me. Said something about a crisis, and that we'd have to do it another time. He said he'd call me later. Bastard."

  "So he got your phone number?"

  "Yes," Dani said. "And I have his."

  "Any idea who the woman is?"

  Dani shook her head. "He said he was single."

  "What made you decide to follow him?" Liz asked.

  "Just my gut reaction. His side of the conversation seemed really odd."

  "There's something you didn't tell me, then," Liz said.

  "Yes. He made some reference to dinner with the béké's daughter."

  "Béké? The Creole word, like in Martinique?"

  "Yes."

  "Had you told him about J.-P. being from there?"

  "No. I hadn't told him anything that would have made him think I was a békée, either."

  "So he knew who you were, then?"

  "So it seems," Dani said. "I've never heard that term used to describe someone of French descent except in the French Antilles."

  "You think he was from Martinique?"

  "I don't know. He said he was Cuban-American. David Ortiz. He told me his parents came here on a raft when his mother was pregnant with him."

  "Interesting," Liz said.

  "That's why I followed him. We may as well go back to Vengeance and clean up. I'm not in the mood for picking up guys anymore."

  Liz looked at her mud-covered friend and suppressed a laugh, shaking her head.

  ****

  Guillermo Maldonado said, "I heard from Havana; Raul Castro's decided to personally call the shots on this one. He wants to set up a bogus invasion, an anti-Castro revolution. He says it's critical that it must appear to be an American-initiated operation. He wants it to look like the CIA put the exiles up to it." Maldonado was on a secure satellite phone link, talking with José Martinez, his lead operative in South Florida.

  José Martinez chuckled. "Like Avila? Back in the early '90s?"

  "You have a good memory," Maldonado said.

  "Yeah. Raul's assuming the Americans don't, I guess."

  "Don't what?" Maldonado said.

  "Don't remember Avila," Martinez said.

  Francisco Avila Azcuy had been Chief of Operations for Alpha-66, a militant group of Cuban exiles. In 1992, Avila confessed that for many years he had been working for DGI, Cuba's Dirección General de Inteligencia, in south Florida. He claimed DGI funded several attacks on Cuba by Alpha-66. When Avila gave himself up to the FBI, he said that Fidel Castro had ordered the operations to justify some of his anti-American policies to the Cuban people and the rest of the world.

  "Your latest report got Raul to thinking, José. When you mentioned that big birthday celebration for Mario Espinosa, Raul came up with this idea. You have to admit, having J.-P. Berger and his whole team right there in Miami is too good an opportunity to pass up."

  "I thought it might interest him," Martinez said. "I know he's always kept up with Espinosa. The guy's like the elder statesman of the exiles. So what's the plan, now? What kind of opportunity does he see?"

  "You used to know Phillip Davis, right? Back when you were both working in Central America in the bad old days?"

  "Yeah. He's been retired for a few years now, supposedly. Lives in Martinique, and his wife's a senior French customs official there."

  "That sounds convenient for a spy," Maldonado said. "You sure he's retired?"

  "Who knows, with these guys?" Martinez said. "Nobody ever knew for sure who he worked for, anyway. He was a career Army officer, but he was always hanging around embassies in the Caribbean basin. Whenever there was any kind of shooting war going on, he was on the fringes. Espinosa and Berger were only a step removed, shipping in weapons and everything else."

  "Davis was CIA."

  "We never confirmed that," Martinez said.

  "Close enough for our purposes, anyway, José."

  "And what does that mean?"

  "It means Raul wants you to approach Davis, posing as the front man for a consortium of the exile organizations."

  "I've already taken steps to infiltrate Berger's party," Martinez said. "Should we wait and see what he finds?"

  "You did what? Why, and on what authority?"

  "You heard me. When I picked up that Berger was renting that place on Star Island, I decided we needed to know what he was doing."

  "But what agent are you using?" Maldonado asked.

  "Relax, Willy." Guillermo Maldonado had adopted the nickname, Willy, years ago. When he had been a field agent in Florida, he thought Guillermo sounded too foreign. "He's flying blind. He has no idea who's behind his mission. It's low risk."

  "Who is he?" Maldonado asked, again.

  "A kid named David Ortiz," Martinez said. "His parents came on a raft in the late '80s, early '90s. He's active in Alpha-66, and he's working for Manny Cruz."

  "In the real estate business? Or the other?"

  "The real estate business," Martinez said. "He's a sales agent, just getting going. Mostly an errand boy, but he's a real ladies' man."

  "Have you met him?"

  "Of course not. He's got no clue what's going on. He thinks Manny's sent him in there to pave the way for Lupita to kidnap Berger's daughter."

  "Lupita Vidal?" Maldonado asked. "But why does he think she's going to kidnap Berger's daughter?"

  "To force Berger to sell weapons to Alpha-66."

  "Jesus, José. Did you make that shit up? Or did you know?"

  "Made it up. Actually, Manny and Lupita thought of it as a way to keep the kid in the dark. Ortiz is scared shitless of Lupita."

  "Yeah, I can imagine," Maldonado said. "I don't blame him. You trust this kid?"

  "Enough to do this. He's already picked Berger's daughter up in a bar at South Beach this evening."

  "Who's running him? Cruz?"

  "Lupita," Martinez said. "She likes jerking him around."

  "Okay, I guess. Don't let her get carried away, though."

  "She'll be okay, Willy. Now that we've got a clear mission, Manny can give her a little more direction."

  "All right. Raul wants you to make the approach to Davis," Maldonado said. "You think he'll trust you?"

  "We've got some history. He always thought I was a pure mercenary. We weren't quite on the same side, but we weren't trying to kill each other, either," Martinez said.

  "Good. We're sticking to that old mercenary cover. Your story's going to be that the exile community in Miami isn't happy with the rapprochement between Raul Castro and the U.S. government. We want it to look like the exiles have hired you to lead an invasion."

  "That's a good story," Martinez said. "They definitely are not happy, but what's in this for Raul? I mean the situation has changed a lot since Avila. There was reason to embarrass the U.S. back then, but they're not bothering us now. What's he want out of this?"

  "Raul Castro is worried that the Cuban people are going to be seduced by capitalism, just like all the other socialist countries have been," Maldonado said.

  "Why doesn't Raul just tell the U.S. to fuck off, then?"

  "World opinion's on the side of the U.S., since they dropped the embargo. Raul is cornered, José. Cuba's more or less forced to make nice with the U.S. If Raul tells them to fuck off, he looks like th
e bad guy. Fidel already mouthed off enough to mess things up before he died. He made Raul decline U.S. disaster aid after the last hurricane. The people didn't like that, so Raul's looking for some overt signs of bad faith from the U.S. to explain his brother's attitude."

  "I think I understand," Martinez said. "If the rest of the world thinks the U.S. is pushing the exiles to overthrow the Castro government, they'll side with Cuba. Then Raul can tell the U.S to go to hell."

  "Yes," Maldonado said. "And it's not just the rest of the world that will take Cuba's side. The most important thing is that the Cuban people will be upset with the U.S. for trying to interfere. They'll turn against the Americans. Now you see why it must appear that the U.S. government is behind this initiative?"

  "Yeah," Martinez said. "Raul is a genius."

  "Maybe. Just set it up so nobody will ever figure it out. That's the point. If we're successful, the U.S. government can deny that they were involved in this effort to overthrow our government, but there will be plenty of people who believe otherwise."

  "But what if Davis tells people I came to him, instead of vice-versa?" Martinez asked.

  "No matter. Who's going to take the word of a CIA agent? Of course he'd say the exiles started the whole thing."

  "And the Cuban people will believe the U.S. wants to make us a colony," Martinez said. "We've poisoned their minds for so long that no matter how much they want automobiles and cellphones, they won't trust the U.S."

  "That's the idea," Maldonado said. "When can you get to Davis?"

  "I'll let you know. Soon, though. Very soon. But I need your help with something."

  "What do you need?"

  "Nothing big, but if I'm going active, I need to put some distance between me and Cruz. Can you take over running him? Make like it's a big promotion for him; he eats that kind of shit up. I need to break off contact with him, at least until this is over."

  "Yeah, sure, José. No problem. Just work through me for what you need from him."

  ****

  "I told you, I don't know when we're going to snatch her," Lupita Vidal said, walking along the beach beside David Ortiz.

  "Okay. I didn't have a good feeling about this evening, anyway," Ortiz said. "I was relieved when you called me and interrupted us."

  "Why's that?"

  "She was squirrely," Ortiz said, with a shrug.

  "What do you mean by that?"

  "She gave off a strange vibe, like she was always looking over her shoulder. Jumpy, maybe, like she was ready for a fight to start. I dunno how to say it better."

  "Yeah. We don't keep you around because you're articulate, that's for sure. Good thing you're so handsome."

  "You got a lot of room to talk. I know why Manny keeps you around. It sure as shit ain't for your brains."

  "He put me in charge of this part of the operation, David. If you've got a problem with that, I can handle it. Just keep up your shit and I'll kick your ass."

  "Is that a threat?"

  "You're smarter than I thought. Now shut up and listen." She walked in silence for several seconds.

  "We're not going to snatch her," she said. "Not right away, anyhow." She glanced his way to make sure he was listening. "But your new job is to suck up to her. We've got other plans to get what we need from her father and his friends, but you need to stay close to her."

  "What for?"

  "You're going to be our inside man. Court that girl for all you're worth. We need somebody that can come and go from that compound on Star Island where they're all hanging out."

  "She's on that damn boat with the other girl, the French one," Ortiz said. "Not in the compound."

  "Belgian," Vidal said.

  "What?"

  "Liz Chirac is Belgian, not French. Dani Berger is half-French. And the boat is tied to the dock at the compound. I don't care if you're hanging out on the boat with her or somewhere else, as long as you're part of her crowd. You need to become a regular with them."

  "She's got an American accent."

  "Yeah?" Lupita Vidal asked, raising her eyebrows and shaking her head. "So?"

  "You said she was half-French."

  "She is," Vidal said. "You know that. Her father's from Martinique, like you said on the phone when you screwed up."

  "What are you talking about, 'screwed up?'"

  "Talking to me on the phone while you were at the table with her, dumbass."

  "What was I supposed to do?"

  "You could have excused yourself to take my call."

  "Shit, Lupita. She doesn't know what I said. I spoke Spanish, remember?"

  "Yeah, I noticed. You also called her the béké's daughter."

  "So?"

  "It didn't occur to you that she might have picked up on that? Realized you were talking about her?"

  "I was speaking Spanish; she's a fuckin' Anglo, Lupita."

  "You know who her godfather is?"

  "Her godfather? What's he got to do with anything?"

  "Mario Espinosa's her godfather, you moron. You do know who he is, right?"

  "Now you're insulting me. Of course I know who he is."

  "He's her father's business partner and best friend. She spent a lot of time with Espinosa and his family when she was little."

  "So? I knew that from the briefing Manny gave us."

  "At least you were listening. Too bad you don't have the brains to use what you heard."

  "You're starting to piss me off, Lupita. What's your point?" He stopped walking and turned to face her.

  Without missing a step, she whirled and delivered a snap-kick to his groin. He grabbed himself and sank to his knees on the hard sand of the beach. He swayed back and forth, gasping.

  "Two things, David," she said, putting a hand under his chin and turning his face up toward hers. "First, I'm running this operation. I demand respect. I don't have time for your male-ego bullshit. You got that? Or do I need to give you another lesson?"

  "I got it," he mumbled.

  "Good. If you keep pushing back, I'll get angry. You won't like that. Now, we were talking about Dani Berger, remember?"

  "Yeah."

  "And the fact that she spent parts of her childhood in Espinosa's household."

  "Yeah. I got that. But I still -- "

  "She speaks Spanish, pinguero. And she's way smarter than you."

  "So?"

  "So, she now knows that you know who her father is."

  "How?" Ortiz asked, frowning as he struggled to make the connection. "Because -- "

  "Because you called her the béké's daughter. That means you know about her father, that he's from the French islands."

  "Oh," he said. "Maybe I can -- "

  "Maybe you can shut up and let me tell you how you're going to cover your ass."

  "Okay, okay," he said, rising to his feet with care. "Can we walk again? I need to walk and breathe deep. You hurt me bad."

  She nodded. "I meant to. At least now I know. I can tell the others, settle our bet."

  "Know what? What bet?"

  "Some people don't think you've still got your cojones. Rumor was some irate husband cut you. But I know better now. You're just a págaro."

  "I don't have to take this from you."

  "Yeah, actually you do have to. Now, here's how you're going to explain yourself to Dani Berger. You ready to listen?"

  "Yeah."

  "All right. You tell her that the call was from your sister, Lupita. Your mother's from Martinique originally. She's been visiting a friend of hers down there that everybody calls the béké's daughter. Your mother's had a stroke, and your sister had to see you to get money for an emergency trip to Martinique to take care of her. Got it?"

  "Yeah, but I -- "

  "Shut up. You're to call Dani and apologize for this evening; explain the whole thing to her like I just told you. Take her out to a fancy meal somewhere and work your magic on her. Think you can do that?"

  "Yeah."

  "Good," she said. "Repeat that cover story
for me. Make like I'm her, and make me believe it's true, or else."

  He rattled off the explanation with conviction. "Okay?" he asked, eyeing her with caution.

  She smiled and flipped her long, curly black hair over her shoulder. "Good."

  "Suppose she doesn't buy it?" he asked.

  "Your mission is to make her buy it; you have to make her fall in love with you. Can you do that?"

  "Yeah, sure. But then what?"

  "One step at a time, David. I don't want to overload your cute little brain."

  ****

  Chapter 2

  "How'd you first meet Sharktooth?" Paul Russo asked Phillip Davis.

  "We were in the jungle, and -- "

  "Where?" Paul interrupted.

  "Can't tell you that," Phillip said. "Not when, either. It's classified, kind of."

  Paul nodded, looking perplexed. "Kind of?"

  "Yeah," Phillip said. "Anyway, this guy had just dropped from a tree and landed on my back -- knocked the shit out of me. I was struggling to get enough air in my lungs to fight back when somebody pulled him off me. When I turned over, I found myself staring up into the biggest, blackest face I'd ever seen." He paused, smiling.

  "And?" Paul prompted.

  "He grinned at me and said 'Who d' hell are you, white boy?'"

  "What did you tell him?"

  "I can't remember exactly. I was too stunned. Whatever I said, I guess it was all right with him, because he pulled the knife away."

  "The knife?"

  "Yeah, I hadn't noticed it until then."

  "Pulled it away from where?" Paul asked.

  "My throat. He wasn't taking any chances on me, you know?" Phillip stared off at the boats in the anchorage to the north. They sat on the veranda of a rented mansion on Star Island in Biscayne Bay.

  After a while, he said, "Anyway, I asked him, 'How come you saved my ass if you didn't know who I was?'"

  "How'd he answer that?"

  "He said, 'I knew who the other mon was. Bad mon. Figured you might be okay if he was gon' kill you.'"

  "And I guess he decided you were okay, then?" Paul asked.

  "I guess. I'm here."

  "What about the other guy?" Paul asked.

  "Broken neck," Phillip said. "Sharktooth palmed his head like a basketball when he pulled the guy off me."

  "Jesus," Paul said. "That's hard to imagine. Did you see that happen? You said you were stunned."