The call had come in about 7:30 a.m., and the officer had arrived about ten minutes later, to find the body well up on the hard-packed shingle. Lucas recalled the report from the crime scene investigators and remembered what he had seen himself shortly after their arrival. There were no drag marks; the body appeared to be where it had fallen. Also, he remembered, Watson's shorts and T-shirt had been damp, but not wet. He'd been out of the water for a while — several hours, perhaps.
There were inconsistencies in Mitchum's story, not the least of which was that he had gone on with his fishing for several hours before approaching the policemen on the beach. Aside from the need to have Mitchum positively identify the Berger woman, Lucas wanted to clear up the issue of where and when the stabbing happened. Mitchum's initial explanation had been that he thought the woman had hit Watson. It had not occurred to him that anything more had happened until he saw the police on the beach after sunup.
While thinking about the timing of what had happened, Lucas had begun to wonder how Watson had managed to swim all the way to the shallow water before a woman in a fast dinghy could catch up with him. He closed his notebook and slipped it into his pocket. He swept his eyes over the anchorage off the beach, wanting to estimate the distance to the yacht. He rubbed his eyes, blinking in disbelief. The yacht, Vengeance, was gone.
Chapter 12
"Glance over your right shoulder," Liz said, sipping her coffee as she waited for Marie to finish her full English breakfast. "There's a man in a white, long-sleeved shirt and dark pants."
Turning back to face Liz, Marie said, "Yes, in a hurry, too. Who is he?"
"Detective Constable Lucas. He's the one investigating the murder."
"The one who came to Vengeance?"
"Yes. He's heading upstairs, like he's going to the customs office."
"I will see what he's doing, if you get the check."
"How will you — "
"It is what I am good at, Sylvia. Take my phone back to the boat and call our friends. I'll meet you there."
"I have my phone," Liz said, taking her iPhone from her pocket and putting it on the table.
Marie snatched it and swiped the screen.
"I haven't turned it on yet," Liz said.
"That is good." Marie was picking at the phone with a hairpin. She removed the SIM card and handed the phone back to Liz with her own iPhone. "Use mine. Passcode is 2156. Do not turn yours on."
"You think — "
"No time," Marie cut her off. "I'll explain later. I must catch up with the detective." She stood and walked out, moving with purpose, but not fast enough to attract attention.
Perplexed, Liz put both phones in her pocket and waved to the waitress for their check.
"Everyt'ing good?" the woman asked, as she scribbled on her pad and tore off the sheet, handing it to Liz.
"Fine, thanks," Liz said.
"Your frien', she okay? She not sick or somethin'?"
Liz forced a smile. "No. She just remembered something she had to do." She glanced at the check and handed the woman a $50 E.C. note. "Keep the change, and thanks."
"Have a good day, an' come back soon," the waitress said.
Liz stood up. "Thanks, we will."
She waited until she was back aboard Kayak Spirit to call Phillip, smiling when he answered, "Good morning, Marie."
"It's Sylvia," she said, deciding to play her part.
"Sylvia," Phillip said, not missing a beat. "Of course. I just saw Marie's number on caller i.d. She there with you?"
"No." Liz explained where Marie was.
"Okay. Who knows what she'll find out. Sometimes I think her ears are her best feature. Why are you on her phone?"
"She took the SIM out of mine and told me not to turn it on. Do you think somebody might be able to track it? Or monitor my calls?"
"I don't know. It hadn't occurred to me. But I'm just an old soldier. Better listen to her on stuff like that; she's had the experience."
"What experience, exactly, has she had, Phillip?"
"I don't know. Clarence must, but that's one of those things ..." His voice trailed off.
"That it's better not to ask?"
"I think so. Sandrine took the ... uh ... things you left to her office. I haven't heard from her yet, but I did speak with Cedric about your visitor."
"And?"
"He's not unknown to the police, but he's not really a criminal. Just somebody they keep an eye on, I guess. He has a brother and a sister there. All three were born in St. Lucia. Grandparents came over from Pakistan in the aftermath of the Second World War, during the 'partitioning,' as they called it. St. Lucia was still a British colony, but they must have had some connections, or at least money."
"Why do you say that?"
"They started a wholesale grocery business — imports, mostly. Samir Gorshani's father was their only child, and he was quite an entrepreneur. He branched out into the retail grocery business and had several stores on the island, but his health failed. His oldest child was a daughter, Sairah, and he and his wife arranged a marriage for her before he died, to a man from Pakistan. Her husband's named Hamid Lanjwani, and he took over the family's business. Sairah's brothers were too young; they were just kids when the old man died."
"Okay," Liz said. "Lanjwani owns a grocery store in Gros Islet? With a rental car business on the same premise?"
"Yes, that's right. Samir Gorshani ran the rental car business. There's a younger brother around somewhere, too. Works in the business. His name's Rashid."
"That tracks with what I learned from the woman at the fruit stand the other day," Liz said.
"Remind me?"
"She said Herbie — the victim — heard the men on the beach speaking a foreign language with the 'man from the store.' From what she said, she meant Lanjwani, not the guy who attacked me."
"What language? Urdu?"
"It could be, I guess. It wasn't a European language. Herbie apparently had at least a smattering of all of them."
"Hmm," Phillip said. "So you think Herbie blundered into the midst of something they didn't want him to see, and one of them killed him?"
"That makes more sense than Dani killing him."
"I can't argue with that," Phillip said. "What's — "
"Hang on a second," Liz interrupted, hearing a siren nearby. She scrambled up the companionway ladder in time to see a patrol boat roaring out of the marina at breakneck speed, blue lights flashing. The siren shrieked at random intervals, clearing a path through the small-boat traffic in the entrance channel.
"Okay," she said. "I'm not sure what's going on, but they're in a big hurry, and that detective was hanging on for his life."
"Was that the harbor patrol boat?"
"Sorry. Yes, it was."
"What detective?" Phillip asked. "The one you told me about?"
"Yes."
"Any sign of Marie?"
"Not yet. We'll call you when she gets back; she'll probably know what set him off."
Liz said goodbye to Phillip and climbed out onto the dock. She walked toward the shopping complex, thinking she'd intercept Marie.
***
Hamid Lanjwani sat at his desk, smoking, reflecting on what he had just learned from his contact in the police. The man had made a few phone calls and called Lanjwani back to tell him that, according to the customs office in Rodney Bay, Vengeance was on her way to Martinique as of a couple of hours ago.
The Berger woman had not been aboard; her partner, Liesbet Chirac had handled the clearance procedure. There had been some confusion about Berger staying behind, but Chirac had explained that she was prohibited from leaving the island.
She had made reference to a memo, which the customs officer found in her supervisor's possession, from the Deputy Commissioner of Police, explaining that Berger's passport was being held by the local police precinct to prevent her from leaving St. Lucia.
"Does that mean Berger is in custody?" Lanjwani had asked.
"I'm not s
ure what it means. There's no record of Berger ever being in custody. She was questioned and released, and there's still a missing person notice out about her."
"Is someone in the police covering something up?" Lanjwani asked.
"I wouldn't know, and if so, it may be worth our lives to ask more questions about her."
Lanjwani was puzzled. Rashid had told him that Vengeance left last night with Chirac and Samir aboard, and there had been no sign of the vessel since. Yet Chirac, or someone presenting her passport, had done the clearance paperwork here in Rodney Bay just a few hours ago.
He lit another cigarette from the butt of the one that had just burned his fingers. He picked up his cellphone and called Rashid.
"Yes, emir?"
"Tell me what happened when you took Samir to the yacht yesterday afternoon."
"I passed close by at low speed and he rolled himself under the lifelines onto the side deck. We first made sure that there was no one around to see, but still, emir, he was very cautious. He knocked on the deck, and when no one responded, he went to the back and picked the lock on the doors. He did this all very quickly, and went down inside."
"And when the woman came back, she was alone?"
"Yes, emir."
"You are quite sure of this?"
"I am certain of it."
"And you watched the yacht leave, you told me."
"That is so."
"Did you see any other boats following it? Anyone who might have helped the woman to escape?"
"No, emir, no one. Do you wish that I go to Martinique? To see if the yacht is indeed there?"
"No. That is not necessary. I will call someone there who can check. I want you to find this Berger woman. She is still on the island, and the police do not have her. This is very suspicious to me. Perhaps she is an agent of the U.S., sent here to watch us. They are everywhere, the infidels."
"With respect, emir, how could that be?"
"Why does that seem so improbable, Rashid?"
"A woman, emir?"
"They do this because they know it is beyond our comprehension. They allow their women to behave in many evil ways. Certainly, they would use one so, because they think we would not believe it."
"Very well, emir. I will do as you bid. I will look for this woman."
"This is the only explanation I see for the behavior of the police, Rashid. They would only have released her if she were somehow connected to a high authority. Do not trust them, either, the police."
"Of course not, emir."
There was a moment of silence, and then Rashid spoke. "Emir?"
"Yes?"
"Suppose they know the Berger woman is not guilty?"
"Not guilty? But they had an eyewitness statement, and we know the woman had no alibi. She was on the yacht alone."
"But perhaps they have another witness."
"Who could have seen it?"
"I do not know. Perhaps someone on one of the other boats. Or someone on the beach that we didn't see."
"Then why would my source not have told me?"
"I cannot answer that, emir. It is only that the thought occurred to me, that this would perhaps explain why the police let her go."
"Interesting. I must think about this, Rashid. Meanwhile, you have your orders."
"Yes, emir."
****
"Sylvia?" Marie called as she stepped onto Kayak Spirit's side deck.
Liz poked her head out of the companionway. "Come on down. I just made fresh coffee, and I have some news."
"I do, as well," Marie said, as she stepped below and took the mug that Liz offered her. "What did Phillip and Sandrine learn?"
"First, did you see the detective take off like a madman in the patrol boat?"
"Yes," Marie said, smiling. "Okay, then, I tell first."
"Phillip didn't have much anyway."
"Later. The detective, he was agitated when I got into the customs and immigration office. I was looking through the tourist brochures in that rack by the door, but I could hear him yelling from the back room. He has seen that Vengeance is no longer anchored. Someone tells him that you left, just a couple of hours ago, for Ste. Anne and he demanded the patrol boat take him out to overtake you."
"Why would he do that? Does he want me for some reason?"
"He is sure that Dani must have been aboard, even though they tell him she is not, that the police have her passport. They show him the fax, I think. He said something about the Deputy Commissioner that I think was not nice, but I couldn't hear well. Then he leaves, with the man who is in charge of the boat. What did Phillip say?"
Liz took a sip of coffee and told Marie what Phillip had learned about Gorshani and Lanjwani. Marie thought for a minute as they savored their coffee.
"Did he say whether — "
She was interrupted by the ringing of her phone, still in Liz's pocket. Liz put it on the table and swiped the screen to answer, putting it in speaker mode as Marie said, "Bonjour, Phillipe."
"Good morning, Marie. Is ... er ... are you with, um, Sylvia?"
"Yes, I'm here, too," Liz said, smiling at his awkward pauses. "I'm hurt that you don't even remember my name after last night."
"Give me a break; I was home with my wife. She just called, by the way. She ran the passports through her magic system."
"Do not tease us, Phillip. What has she found?" Marie asked.
"They're valid Greek passports."
"Not stolen?" Marie asked.
"No. At least if they are, they haven't been reported."
"Ah," Marie said. "So, somebody bought them?"
"Wait," Liz said. "Why do you say that, Marie?"
"It's a common ploy," Phillip said. "Someone who doesn't need a passport gets one, maybe uses it a few times, and then sells it to someone else. After some agreed period of time, the owner will report the passport as stolen."
"Until then," Marie said, picking up the explanation, "the passport is valid if anyone checks. When they report it, they say they don't know how long it's been gone."
"But then what?" Liz asked.
"Then it is altered and used by the person who bought it," Marie said.
"I thought with the chips they put in them now, switching the picture didn't do any good," Liz protested.
"It does not, if the authorities scan the biometric chip," Marie agreed.
"Well, then, — "
"That's why they replace the chip and the picture," Phillip explained. "Cloning the chips is a high-tech cottage industry.
"Oh," Liz said. "So he had six Greek passports, and we assume they've been modified?"
"Almost certainly," Phillip said. "Sandrine did a facial recognition query on them. On two of the six, she got a perfect match; on the others, she got a list of the possibles."
"Explain, please," Liz said, frowning.
"The most important thing is on the two exact matches," Philip said. "Both of them came into Martinique a few days ago using Syrian passports that were probably forged, but since they were coming from Paris, nobody checked beyond a quick look and a snapshot. Remember, this is part of France; Martinique is European soil."
Marie said, "And I will bet my money that there were four among the possibles who were also coming from Paris with Syrian documents."
"And you'd win," Phillip said.
"I follow all of that, and I guess the six men must be some of the ones smuggled into St. Lucia, but I don't understand what's going on," Liz said.
"These guys are probably headed for the U.S.," Phillip said. "With Greek passports, they'd qualify for the visa waiver program. That's a snap, compared to what they'd go through with Syrian documents, especially if the Syrian documents were bogus."
"Okay, but why St. Lucia?"
"I don't know," Phillip said, "but if they slipped out of Martinique under the radar, they could reappear wherever they chose with their new identities. From here to St. Lucia's pretty easy. If this Gorshani character is the source of the passports, they could go
just about anywhere from there."
"But why not give them the passports in Martinique?" Liz asked.
"This way, the six men with Syrian passports still show up as being in Martinique. They get a fresh start with new Greek identities wherever they wish."
"What happens next?" Liz asked.
"Sandrine sent the passports to a lab; they want to see if they can tell who modified them."
"Will that damage them?" Liz asked.
"I don't know. Why?"
"Because I'm having an idea. Ask her if she can make sure they aren't visibly damaged."
"I'll ask, but — "
"And what about his phone?"
"Oh, they cracked that with no problem. Not much there except the list of called numbers. They're checking them out. I'll let you know."
"Okay but I want his phone and the passports. Can you get them to me, here?"
"There?" Phillip asked. "Why?"
"I'm thinking I'll call Lanjwani and tell him Gorshani's dead. If I call on Gorshani's phone, Lanjwani will be more likely to take the call and it will establish my credibility."
"What about the passports?" Marie asked.
"I'm not sure yet, but maybe I'll offer to trade them for Dani."
"But we don't know that he has her," Philip said.
"That's what I want to find out."
"I don't like it," Phillip said. "You'll make yourself a target."
Liz laughed. "Wake up, Phillip. I'm already a target, remember?"
"Yes, but ... "
"But what?"
"What's the connection with Dani?"
"I was asking about Dani when Gorshani came calling. There has to be a connection there. We just don't know what it is."
"Too bad you didn't ask Gorshani before you killed him."
"He was in a hurry. He surprised me; I reacted before I thought."
"What do you think, Marie?"
Bluewater Jailbird: The Tenth Novel in the Caribbean Mystery and Adventure Series (Bluewater Thrillers Book 10) Page 9
