Bluewater Jailbird: The Tenth Novel in the Caribbean Mystery and Adventure Series (Bluewater Thrillers Book 10)

by Charles Dougherty

  "Food, I think," the man had said. "They have done this before. The woman came out a few minutes later and went back to the family compound at the rear of the property. We didn't see Lanjwani leave, but we think he may have some private access, maybe to his office in the store. We have seen him appear and disappear at odd times without seeing him on the outside stairs."

  Liz heard a muted click and saw Marie turning the doorknob. Marie glanced up at her and nodded, swinging the door open and diving across the threshold as Liz pivoted on her right foot and rushed through the doorway. There was enough ambient light for them to see that the front room was clear.

  They crept across the room to a hallway, Marie dropping to a crouch at the left side of the opening while Liz covered her. Liz took her position on the right side and Marie dove through. Liz followed. The short hallway ended in the lighted room at the back of the apartment. One doorway opened off each side of the hall; Liz cleared the room on the left, a kitchen, while Marie checked the bathroom on the right side.

  They nodded at one another as they came back into the hallway and moved to the lighted room at the end. The room held four bunk beds and two chests of drawers. The radio they were hearing sat on one of the chests. Both of them turned, aiming their pistols at a closed door in the right front corner of the room. It could only be a closet, given the layout of the apartment.

  Liz dropped into a shooter's stance, steadying her pistol with both hands. Marie had moved into a position with her left hand on the knob. With a quick glance at Liz, she swung the door open, and they stared into the dark, empty, three-foot-square space.

  Liz approached Marie and bent, her mouth close to the other woman's ear. "Clear, you think?" she whispered.

  Marie nodded, straightening up. "Yes. Cover me, just in case," she whispered.

  Liz, frowning, nodded. "Okay, but — "

  Marie put her forefinger over her lips and shifted her pistol to her left hand. She pulled a heavy, fixed-blade knife from the sheath on her belt and dropped to her knees. She traced a barely noticeable crack in the floor that ran across the threshold of the closet door opening and looked up, raising her eyebrows at Liz.

  Liz nodded her understanding and Marie forced the tip of the blade into the crack, levering the floor panel up to reveal a vertical shaft with a ladder. She stood and put her lips to Liz's ear. "I go first," she whispered.

  Liz nodded, and Marie whispered again. "I will wait at the bottom; we go through like before."

  Before Liz could respond, Marie was scurrying down the ladder. Liz joined her at the bottom, and they swung the door open to find themselves in Lanjwani's cluttered office. It was lit by the dim glow of several video monitors that showed the aisles of the empty store. "I'll make a quick sweep in case these are video loops. You cover me," Marie hissed, and stepped out into the store.

  Fifteen seconds later, she rejoined Liz in the closet and shrugged, her eyebrows raised.

  "Let's leave our gift and get out of here," Liz said.

  ****

  "Jean-Luc thinks they probably slipped out in one of the delivery trucks," Marie said. She and Liz were back aboard Kayak Spirit, the satellite phone on the table between them.

  "How many trucks were there?" Phillip asked, his voice sounding thin through the phone's small speaker.

  "Only two since they've been watching," Marie said, "and only one was driven by a man who looked to be of Middle Eastern extraction."

  "Did they track them?" Liz asked.

  Marie smirked. "But of course. One went to a wholesale grocery warehouse. The other one, it went to a bonded warehouse on the waterfront in Castries, where the small freighters dock."

  "I'll bet on the truck that went to the bonded warehouse," Phillip said.

  "We will know later today. Jean-Luc is checking with our friendly customs broker about the bonded warehouse, to see who is using it, and for what cargo."

  "What's your next move?" Phillip asked.

  "I owe Lanjwani a call," Liz said. "It's been three hours since he gave me the link to the video."

  "How will you explain the delay?" Phillip asked.

  "My computer's on Vengeance. I had to find one I could borrow."

  "That invites his minions on the boat to try to break into it," Phillip said.

  "They may have already tried, don't you think?" Liz asked.

  "No sign of it on the surveillance video feed," Phillip said, "but now that you mention it, doesn't it seem a little odd that they wouldn't have tried?"

  "Maybe," Liz said. "Anyway, the disk drive's encrypted. They won't get very far, without some serious help. And even if they did, there's nothing there that will hurt us."

  "These people don't seem that suspicious," Marie said. "They're underestimating us, and they're not well organized."

  "They're well-enough organized to get high quality fake passports," Phillip said.

  "Well, somebody was well enough organized to do that," Marie said, "but these guys are amateurs at the terrorist game. I think somebody else must have arranged the passports for them."

  "Why do you say they're amateurs?" Phillip asked.

  "They're mixing white slavery with smuggling terrorists," Marie said.

  "The sex trade could be a good cover, I'd think," Phillip said.

  "Maybe in some places, but not here," Marie said. "Everyone is mixed up in human trafficking down here in the islands. Pimps, cops, drug dealers, politicians, businessmen. Far too many players, and too many politicians with their hands out. There's too much exposure, too many opportunities for leaks. Nobody cares about human trafficking, not really. Terrorism, that's different."

  "Who do you think those six men are, then?" Phillip asked.

  "Oh, I think that they are terrorists, all right. The passports give that away. But this Lanjwani and his henchmen, they are clueless. Too many people think that people-smuggling is a victimless crime; that makes it easy. Smuggling suicidal maniacs is a different proposition. These six men, they are not docile like his usual victims. They may be giving him some serious problems, already. And the officials on his payroll? They would sell him out in a, how you like to say it? A New York second, isn't it? They want no part of anything that would bring in the DHS or Interpol. Is bad for business."

  "You make a good point, Marie. I hadn't thought that through."

  "I have seen this before, when I worked in other places," Marie said. "It is not that I am so smart; it is that I have been, what you say, 'burned' by this kind of people. So, Liz, he will want to make the exchange, this Lanjwani. What do you tell him?"

  "He thinks I'm in Martinique, and he knows that the passports are not on the boat. Martinique is a big island. I will have to spend several hours to recover the passports and then I have to get to St. Lucia with them. There's no way I can get them to him before this evening."

  "Yes," Marie said. "This is the good story, I think. By then, we maybe have time to find where he is, where he has hidden these men."

  "But there's still no word on where Dani is," Liz said.

  "J._P. is not as worried as I would have thought," Phillip interjected. "He thinks Dani's probably watching from the sidelines, as we guessed earlier. She's entirely capable of disappearing, in his opinion."

  "But how will we find her?" Liz said. "We could use her help with this."

  "Be satisfied that she's not in jail, and that Lanjwani doesn't have her," Marie said. "I believe it is like J._P. said. She will find us when it is the right time."

  "She's not this patient," Liz said. "It's unlike her to stay in the background."

  "She's a survivor," Phillip said. "She went to ground for a whole summer in the hills around Medellín when she was just a teenager. J._P. would kill me and Sharktooth both if he knew we let her do that. We lost her completely, but she blew up so many coke refineries that the cartel was offering her royalties to stop. When she linked back up with us, I barely recognized her. She'd gone native. I'm sure she's fine. Clear out this nest of snakes, and she'
ll show up when she's ready."

  "I hope so," Liz said. "I didn't know about Colombia. She mentioned Central America once, but it sounded like some kind of lethal summer camp. She said she was with a bunch of other kids her age."

  "Yes, that's mostly true. She was recruiting them and training them. That was the next summer. I'm surprised she mentioned that; she's still a wanted woman in Nicaragua, but they don't really know who she is. She's pretty guarded about that summer."

  "Okay. I'll try not to worry about her. I'd better make my call now."

  Chapter 22

  "What do you mean, someone has been in the apartment?" Lanjwani asked.

  "They have made an obscenity, an abomination," Rashid stammered.

  "Who, Rashid? What abomination?"

  "The head of a pig, emir. With my brother's wallet in the mouth. Who would do such a thing?"

  "Perhaps the Cuban woman got there before you did. I don't know who else would do this."

  "How could she have gotten Samir's wallet, emir?"

  "I don't know. Is there other damage?"

  "None that I can see. The front door was left ajar, and they found the passage to your office."

  "Can you tell if they took anything?"

  "Nothing has been disturbed, emir. Not that I can see."

  "Is Mohammed still with you?"

  "Yes."

  "Have you searched the premises carefully? Are you sure no one is hiding there?"

  "No one is here. But I don't think it was the Cuban woman."

  "Why do you say this, Rashid?"

  "She went from your office out into the store. The security camera has a video of her; she made a quick search of the store."

  "She? A woman?"

  "Yes. But not the Cuban woman. This one is bigger, and her hair was light, not dark."

  "You saw the Chirac woman when you took Samir to her boat, did you not?"

  "Yes, emir. This was not Chirac. This woman was heavier than Chirac, but not fat. Heavy with muscle, like an athlete."

  "Very well. You and Mohammed stay there. The Cuban woman will surely come. When she does, you capture her, and then call me. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, emir. Do you wish us to — "

  "I wish you to do exactly as I order, Rashid. I must go. Chirac is calling on my other phone, I think."

  ****

  "Please don't hurt her any more," Liz said, doing her best to hide her anger at the man on the other end of the phone.

  She heard him laugh. "If you are so worried about your friend, why did you wait so long to call?"

  "I had to get to a computer with Internet access. Please — "

  "Take your time, Ms. Chirac. Your friend is enjoying herself, I think. She has the undivided attention of several men to keep her occupied until you give me the passports. The sooner I have them, the sooner she goes free — assuming she doesn't want to stay with her new friends. I will leave that to her. Bring the passports back to St. Lucia, and we shall see."

  "I have to retrieve them first. It will take me a few hours, and then I have to get to St. Lucia."

  "When will you arrive?"

  "Early evening. That's the fastest I — "

  "Call me when you are in St. Lucia with the passports. I will have someone meet you and bring you to where we have Berger."

  "No! We won't do it that way. I will — "

  "Shut up, bitch! You are not in a position to make terms. If you do as I say, you may see your friend again."

  Liz heard a click as the connection was broken. "How did I do?" she asked, looking at Marie.

  "Good enough, I think. Nice that you tried to negotiate; that made you more credible. That will help to bait our trap."

  ****

  "How do you think we should — "

  The incoming call interrupted Liz. Marie picked up the satellite phone and looked at the caller i.d. "Jean-Luc," she said, pressing the green connect button.

  "Oui," she said, in a soft tone. She listened for several seconds, nodding her head.

  The man on the other end was speaking so softly that Liz couldn't hear what he was saying. She sat, looking at Marie, waiting.

  "Okay," Marie said, "Très bien. Au revoir."

  "What happened?" Liz asked.

  "Sorry. He was whispering; I didn't want to take time to put him on the speaker. Two men just entered the apartment. He has seen both of them there, in the car rental lot. He said they appeared to be in a hurry to get inside. They arrived in one of the rental cars and raced up the stairs. One of them was carrying a briefcase; he seemed to be the one in charge."

  "Hmm," Liz said. "Too bad we didn't have time to wire the place. It would be interesting to know who they are and what they're doing."

  "Yes. And to see their reaction to our little offering, as well."

  "I wonder if the six men are out on some kind of ... well ... if they'll be back, I guess is what I'm trying to say."

  "I don't think so. The bunks were made up with fresh linens, the dresser drawers were empty. There was no sign that anyone was living there; even the trash cans were empty."

  "When did you check all of that?" Liz asked, surprise in her voice.

  "While you were arranging the gift platter in the front room."

  "I wasn't gone but a few seconds. I thought you were putting the floor panel back in the closet."

  "That, too," Marie said. "I have much experience with fast searches. You look for certain things. Only if you see them do you take the time for looking more carefully."

  "Okay. You think they've moved on, the six men."

  "Yes. I think we will find their trail when Jean-Luc talks to his friend the customs broker, but that must wait until the man's normal office hours, or we might set off an alarm of some kind, you see."

  "Yes, I understand. What about these two men, though?"

  "What about them?" Marie asked.

  "What could they be doing?"

  "We cannot know this. Let's talk about how we will find this Lanjwani," Marie said. "You have some ideas, you said earlier."

  "Yes," Liz said. "I'll call him this evening and let him send someone to meet me. I don't see any alternatives."

  "Almost certainly, once they have the passports, they will try to kill you, because you will be able to recognize the men he sends," Marie said.

  "Right," Liz said. "I have a plan to deal with that. Can you get one of those little GPS tracking devices?"

  "Of course. You are thinking to put it in with the passports?"

  "No, I think they'll be suspicious of the passports. They'll check them out to see if we've tampered with them. The device would have to be in the envelope, or bag, or whatever. They'd find it, for sure. Or maybe they'd just toss the packaging and keep the passports, unless you can get something so small it could be embedded in a passport."

  Marie shook her head. "Such a thing exists, maybe, but we cannot get one on such short notice. It would require an expert forger to embed it, anyway. Otherwise, they could see that someone had altered the passport."

  "That's what I thought," Liz said. "It will have to be in my clothing, probably."

  "Too risky," Marie said. "These people might take your clothes, or tear them." She paused, looking at Liz, catching her eye. "You realize they may molest you; almost certainly, they will threaten this. Human traffickers are accustomed to humiliating their captives. It is how they control them."

  "Okay. Yes, I expect that. I'm prepared to put up with some abuse, but what about the tracker?"

  "The one we have is made for the hair; I have used it."

  "You mean like a barrette?"

  "Too obvious; too easily torn away. It is part of an elastic band. You have enough hair for the ponytail, I think."

  "Barely, but yes," Liz said.

  "Okay. So that is where we will put it. When we are through, I will call in our shopping list to Jean-Luc. How do you plan to keep them from killing you and taking the passports?"

  "I'm only going to take one of
the passports; I will tell them that I will have the others delivered to a drop of my choosing by messenger after they release Dani."

  "Ooh! This will make them very angry, especially since we think they don't have her."

  "Yes, I expect that it will. That's why I want the tracker — for insurance. I'm betting that Lanjwani won't come to get me himself, so when they discover I only brought one of the passports, they'll call him for instructions. He'll probably have them take me to him."

  "He may just order them to torture you, on the spot, until you give up the location of the passports."

  "I won't have the location, and I'll tell him that right away."

  "What? I don't understand."

  "I'll tell him that the others are in the care of different people, whose names I don't even know. The story is that if Dani and I don't show up at a certain place within a few hours after I'm captured, the passports will be given to the DHS."

  "This is very good, very complicated. Almost impossible for them to overcome in a short period, unless they force you to call this messenger."

  "I will tell them the call is to go to a voicemail box; the messenger will call me back on a phone that I do not have with me. If he fails to reach me with one call, the passports will be turned over to DHS."

  Marie shook her head, grinning, and gave a low whistle. "Wow. You should be in my business. You have a devious mind. This will frustrate them; they will have no options, though. That is a serious problem."

  "Why?" Liz asked.

  "When you corner a dangerous animal and make him think he has no escape route, he has nothing left to lose. You see?"

  "That's why you and your team will be following close on my heels. I'm trusting you to save me. If you don't show up on my heels, I figure I'm at their mercy."

  "I don't like it. Too much can go wrong."

  "Do you have a better plan?" Liz asked.

  "No, but they don't even have Dani. Why would you take this risk? It's not worth it. Not to catch six terrorists — we've already neutralized them when Sandrine flagged the passports as stolen."

  "Lanjwani can clear Dani. He was behind whatever happened on the beach that night."

  "If he can be made to talk, that is so," Marie said, "but that would mean he has to confess. What would make him do this?"