Long Way Down

by Paul Carr

  “Doesn’t matter as long as we’re there when they get back,” Sam said.

  J.T. nodded. “Yeah, I guess. I just wish we knew where they’re going.”

  Sam had to admit that he wanted to know their destination, too. He wondered how La Salle might be using the facility on Grand Cayman in his scheme.

  “I wish we’d had more time to check on that web site.”

  “Yeah, me too,” J.T. said.

  Sam turned to Candi. “Do you know where we can get access to a computer?”

  “They have them in Security. But somebody might be in the office.”

  “That’s okay, let’s go take a look. After that, we’ll head over to the lagoon.”

  They went back down the stairwell, exited, and sneaked to the security office which lay a few doors past the money room. The door stood open. Sam leaned against the wall and peeked inside. A bank of video monitors occupied one side of the room, and a man sat in the corner, his head against the wall, eyes closed. He looked like the same man who had driven them to the hotel. There didn’t seem to be much going on yet in the security department of the Cyclops.

  Sam stepped inside, his gun leading the way, and the sleeping man opened his eyes. He pitched forward in the chair and fumbled with his shoulder holster. Sam pointed the gun at his face and thumbed the hammer.

  “Don’t do it.”

  The man froze and glanced at Candi and J.T., then at the monitors. One screen showed La Salle still on the floor with his hands tied. Another displayed the foyer where Gino lay unconscious.

  “What happened to them?”

  “Just a little misunderstanding,” Sam said. “Be good and you won’t get hurt. At least not by us.”

  J.T. went to work on the computer while Sam took the gun from the security man’s fingers and made him get on the floor.

  Sam said to Candi, “Unplug that phone cord and hand it to me."

  After tying the man’s hands behind him with the cord, Sam found a roll of packaging tape in the desk and taped his mouth and ankles. He pulled a set of car keys from the man’s pocket. Hopefully the car still sat out front. Opening a closet next to the desk, Sam dragged the man inside, leaving the door ajar so he could wiggle his way out in an hour or so.

  J.T. punched the computer keys, while Candi watched the monitors.

  Sam peered over J.T.’s shoulder. “You find what you need?”

  “Yeah, I think so. I’m on the Internet now. There were several transmissions since I looked at my web site, but the information looks about the same each time. I just need to download this one last file.”

  Sam joined Candi at the monitors. Most of the screens displayed views of empty rooms. He went to the one where La Salle lay on the floor and watched as the dojo door opened. Jimmy the Spike stepped into the room rubbing the side of his head. He spotted La Salle on the floor and hurried over to him. Sam turned up the volume on the speaker until he could hear their voices and zoomed in with the camera.

  La Salle gurgled and jerked at his bindings. His eyes bulged. Jimmy knelt to his side and untied the belt around his gagged mouth.

  La Salle gasped and said, “Where’s Gino?”

  “Out cold.” Jimmy untied the knot that bound La Salle’s hands. “Somebody hit him pretty hard. His head is all swollen up, like twice as big as it’s supposed to be.”

  “Help me up. I think Mackenzie fractured my leg.”

  Jimmy got to his feet and looked down at him.

  “He what?” Jimmy stood gazing at his great leader, as if paralyzed by this revelation that he might not be invincible after all.

  La Salle glanced up and narrowed his eyes. The look said he would kill Jimmy if he could.

  “Just pull me up.”

  Jimmy hesitated another second and then reached for his arm. La Salle got his good leg under him, stood and reached for the rail against the wall. He started to hop toward the back door, but stopped and turned around.

  “I heard an airplane take off a few minutes ago. Who left on it?”

  Jimmy shrugged and rubbed the side of his head. “I don’t know, somebody hit me, too.”

  “Well, find out.” He started hopping again and said over his shoulder, “And tell the pilot to get the other plane ready. I need to go to Miami and get this leg fixed.”

  Jimmy left the dojo while La Salle still worked his way toward the back door, one hop at a time, moaning, his face contorted with pain.

  “WE BETTER get going,” Candi said.

  Sam stepped over to J.T. and said, “Let’s go. La Salle’s leaving for the airport in a few minutes, and I want to be long gone by then.”

  “I almost got it...okay, take a look at this.” He turned the monitor so Sam could see. A red dot blinked in the center of the screen with several blinking white dots scattered around it. “I found this program on the computer. It uses the data file I received on the web site. The dots are the coordinates I mentioned in the Caribbean. That red dot in the center is what they’re watching, maybe where the gold is located. I’m guessing the other dots are boats. These guys are watching to make sure no one gets too close.” J.T. gave Sam a nervous grin. “That’s what the missiles are for.”

  Sam remembered the rocket launcher they had used on Tommy Shoes’ limo, and the destruction it had caused. According to J.T.’s description, the missiles were larger than a rocket launcher, and probably would turn a fifty-foot boat into small pieces. He remembered the radio report of the fishing boat that had washed up in pieces on Grand Cayman. Poor guys never knew what hit them.

  “Did you write down the coordinates of the red dot?”

  J.T. gave Sam a sidelong glance, grinned and said, “Yeah, first thing I did.”

  “Okay, let’s get out of here.”

  They made it almost to the lobby when the elevator beeped. Sam led them into an alcove and peered around the corner. Jimmy came out of the elevator and sprinted toward the security room. When he went in the door, they hurried through the lobby and crossed the big eye in the floor, not bothering to step around the uncured cement.

  The car still sat in the covered limousine area not far from the door. They got inside, Sam and Candi in front, J.T. in back, and Sam started the engine. They rode away from the hotel, quiet until they passed between the giant feet. Sam glanced at Candi in the glow of the dash lights. Her face reminded him of a movie star he had seen on the cover of a recent magazine. She had the looks to be an actress or model herself, instead of tying up with a bunch of criminals.

  J.T. broke the silence. “How do you think Danilov figures into this?”

  “Maybe he found a shipwreck back in his Cuba days,” Sam said.

  “And he got Miro to appraise something he found and sell it for him?”

  “Yeah, that would explain Miro’s bank account. But what doesn’t add up is the link with La Salle. The only information you found about him was in the last few months, like he didn’t exist prior to that time.”

  Sam glanced at Candi again and caught her eyes. She looked away.

  “Maybe Candi knows,” Sam said.

  Candi waited a few seconds and said, “Back before Philly died, La Salle mentioned something about working in Central America. I asked what he did there and he got this real funny look on his face. He mumbled something about being a consultant, and never mentioned it again.”

  Sam drove past the New Miami sign and onto the road that led to the airport. The road was dark except for the car’s headlights, but after a couple of minutes Sam could see lights from the airport in the distance.

  “Do we have to go through the airport to get to the lagoon?”

  “No,” Candi said. “You can take a left at the edge of the airport onto an access road and it goes all the way around one side.”

  Sam turned off the headlights before reaching the airport and turned left as Candi instructed. He could see the runway lit up next to an airplane similar to the one he had flown in on. Two men stood talking inside the construction trailer. Sam couldn
’t recognize them at that distance. A car started up next to the trailer and raced toward the road to the hotel. Sam eased the car into a clump of trees and put on the brakes. The approaching car’s headlights shone through the trees, and when it passed he saw Marcus behind the wheel. Probably going to get La Salle. A moment later the two men in the construction trailer came out and down the steps. One of them, wearing flight coveralls, hurried toward the plane. Maybe the pilot? The other man, dressed in a business suit, stepped to the corner of the trailer and a flood light illuminated his face. A chill ran up Sam’s back. He eased the car back on the road and drove toward the lagoon, wondering what Jackson Craft might have to do with La Salle, New Miami and sunken gold.

  Chapter 18

  VISIBILITY DIMMED as they drove away from the airport, and Sam snapped on the parking lights. Following Candi’s directions, he turned onto the dirt road to the lagoon, still thinking about Jack Craft. Jack had said he put La Salle in touch with a broker to purchase some land, maybe this island. But why would he be here now, months later, unless he had more involvement in this mess than he had said? Sam wished he’d pressed Jack a little harder, and maybe he, J.T. and Candi wouldn’t be in the middle of nowhere planning to rob gold from crooks.

  “It can’t be far from here,” Candi said.

  The road, paved with sand and shell and wide enough only for one vehicle, meandered like an old creek bed. Sam drove slowly and looked for a place to park where the car would be hidden. He saw a spot a couple of minutes later, turned off the road into a clearing, and eased in behind a stand of trees.

  They got out and ambled along the curvy road for about fifty feet before seeing the reflection of light across water. An area half the size of a football field had been cleared, and on the far side a wooden dock jutted out into the edge of the lagoon. A yellow light cast a jaundiced glow over the boards, and an old gas pump stood next to the light like a loyal friend awaiting the return of the ship.

  In a graveled area near the dock sat a business van.

  “Walk in the edge of the trees,” Sam said. “I’ll check the van first, in case someone is asleep inside.”

  They eased through the brush until even with the vehicle, and Sam crept to the window and peered inside. Empty. Keys hung from the ignition, ready for a quick departure.

  Sam glanced at the dock. Small bugs swarmed the light and dropped on a pile underneath when they flew too close to the globe. Maybe they wanted something they thought lay inside the brilliance, something like the gold the people on this island were chasing. Sam wondered if the bugs’ demise could be a message for him.

  This fiasco had started with Sam trying to protect Candi Moran. He didn’t want the gold. There would be problems with it as long as La Salle or Danilov lived, and he certainly wouldn't kill them for it. He had gone along only because Candi wouldn’t leave the island. Now he wished he had just told her to get on the plane or forget about any help from him. J.T. would have stayed with her, but Sam knew his interest, and his first priority probably wouldn’t be to protect Candi. That might be just what Candi deserved. She wanted protection, but she also wanted her father’s money back, and even more. There had been no question about her staying once she knew J.T. would help with the gold.

  J.T. punched Sam on the shoulder. “What’s the plan?”

  “We take them by surprise when they come in, and nobody dies. Then we get Danilov to fly us out of here on that plane.”

  J.T. hesitated. “Why should we worry about keeping these guys alive? I can fly the plane.”

  “Yeah, I know you can.”

  J.T. raised an eyebrow and stared at Sam for a couple of seconds. “Okay, you’re the boss.”

  Candi stepped in front of Sam and looked him in the eye. “Hey, don’t I have anything to say about this?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like, I think we should take the gold from the plane and stay and get what they have in the safe. We could be missing out on millions if we don’t. La Salle will be in Miami, and we’ll have Danilov’s full attention. Gino’s probably the last of La Salle’s henchmen left on the island, and I don’t think he’s going to be in any shape to do much of anything.”

  Sam considered that for a moment and said, “Okay, you can stay if you want, but Danilov is going to fly the plane to Miami and I’m going to be on it.”

  J.T. glanced at Candi and nodded. “Fair enough.”

  Candi remained silent.

  An airplane flew over, heading west.

  “There goes La Salle,” J.T. said, watching the running lights trailing away in the sky. He turned and looked at Sam. “You leave the keys in the ignition?”

  “Yeah, I did.”

  J.T. nodded and Sam knew he wouldn’t be leaving the island until he had a look into the safe.

  They got inside the van, Sam and Candi in front and J.T. in back, and waited.

  “The part that’s mystifying about all this,” Sam said, “is how La Salle could amass so much money in such a short time.”

  “He told me a man came to him with a proposal to build this place,” Candi said, “and he had investors who wanted to buy in. La Salle had been planning to do it anyway, just not so soon, and out of the blue this guy shows up.”

  “Did he tell you the man’s name?”

  “No, but I know La Salle took the offer and set up the company. He said he would buy them out, at least enough to gain control of everything, when his other investments came in. I assume now he was talking about this salvage operation.”

  J.T. spoke up. “Did he know who the investors would be?”

  “I don’t think so, but he didn’t care. He stood only to gain by using their money. Besides, who would try to swindle somebody like La Salle?”

  “Did the guy require La Salle to buy a percentage of the stock in the company?” Sam said.

  “Oh, yeah, but he had it set up so he would have three months to put in his part.”

  “Did he say how much?”

  “Yeah, a hundred million.”

  J.T. whistled. “He must think there’s at least that much gold out there.”

  “Maybe twice that,” Sam said, “since Danilov is probably taking half.”

  They waited in the van for several hours. It got chilly in the early morning and Sam wished he had a light jacket. Sitting in the driver’s seat, Sam took the first two-hour watch, then leaned his head against the headrest and dozed while J.T. took over. He didn’t know how long he had been asleep when the drone of an airplane woke him.

  “There they are,” J.T. said.

  Sam stretched and peered at the dock area.

  The noise got louder as the plane neared, and running lights flickered in the distance. They got out of the van and crouched behind it. Sam pressed the light on his watch and looked at the time: 4:10 AM.

  The plane landed at the edge of the lagoon and taxied on the water toward the dock. It looked like an old Grumman Mallard: no pontoons, just a big floating hull like a boat. Its engines raced a couple of times as the pilot coaxed it into place, and then coughed and went silent. The hatch popped open and a man jumped out onto the dock. Another man threw out two ropes, and the man on the dock knelt and tied them to boat cleats. Sam didn’t recognize either of the men. The noise of a helicopter chattered in the distance and the man on the dock stood and looked up.

  “Someone else is joining the party,” Sam said.

  Coming in fast, the helicopter swept the lagoon with spotlights and circled. The man on the dock pulled a gun from the pocket of his coveralls and yelled something that was garbled by the helicopter noise. The other man jumped out of the seaplane onto the dock and looked up.

  “We’d better go back to the car until we see how this plays out,” Sam yelled over the helicopter prop wash.

  J.T. nodded. “Yeah, and we better make it quick. That chopper’s coming this way again.”

  They hurried along the van on the side farthest from the dock and raced up the road into the trees to a spot near
the car where they could still see the seaplane. The helicopter slowed, hovered above the van, and shone the light on the seaplane. One of the men on the dock shielded his eyes and aimed the gun in the air, but rounds from the helicopter hit him before he could pull the trigger, and he fell back on the dock. The other man dived into the water as bullets ripped through the boards where he had been standing. The pilot set the helicopter down in the clearing and cut the engines, but kept the spotlight on the plane. Three men with rifles got out of the copter and ran to the side of the van.

  Dead silence hung in the air, as if the birds, frogs, and other wildlife stopped everything to watch the humans do battle.

  One of the men yelled over the hood of the van, “Come out or we will torch the plane.” He had an accent, maybe Spanish, but Sam wasn’t sure.

  Nothing happened for awhile, and Sam wondered if Danilov might be considering his options. Had the plane not been tied down, he might have tried to take off again, but he would surely die if he tried to cut the ropes. Maybe he thought help would come from the Cyclops. Finally, he appeared in the open hatch, his hands over his head.

  One of the men from the helicopter stepped around the van. “Is there anyone else?”

  “No,” Danilov said, “just the three of us.”

  The helicopter men rounded the van and stepped onto the dock. One of them kicked the man who had been shot and, satisfied he wouldn't be moving, pointed his rifle at the murky water. “The other one went in right there. Probably half-way to Florida by now.” He turned toward the plane and motioned to Danilov with his hand. “Okay, out.”

  Danilov jumped down and one of the men from the helicopter climbed into the seaplane. He came out a few minutes later with a gold figurine in his hand and held it in the air. “This is one of the pieces. A lot more is on the plane, and the rest must be in the hotel.”

  These men didn’t seem like run-of-the-mill pirates. They could fly a helicopter and handle weapons, and seemed more like Special Forces than thieves. But they also could be expensive hired hands.