Cayman Crackdown (Coastal Fury Book 18)

by Matt Lincoln

  Charlie looked up, and Junior noticed that his eyes brightened considerably at the sight of the doughnuts.

  “I got coffee, too,” Junior declared as he plucked one of the cups out of the holder.

  Charlie took it before snooping through the box for a doughnut.

  “I thought I smelled coffee,” Fiona’s voice suddenly reached Junior’s ears. He turned around to find her standing just behind him, her short dark hair pulled back into a low ponytail.

  “Wow,” Junior deadpanned as she reached around him to take one of the other cups. “Not even a hello? Good morning? Just here for the coffee?”

  “Yep,” she chirped happily before reaching up to kiss him on the cheek. Junior couldn’t keep the smile off his face. Fiona Gardner, intelligence analyst, and his girlfriend, as of approximately six months ago, had come out of her shell a lot since he’d first met her. She’d been painfully shy and quiet back then, holed up in her office unless she absolutely had to come out. Lately, she’d become more bold, unafraid to tease him, like she was doing now. She’d started growing her hair out as well and had even begun to wear a bit of makeup around the office.

  “Anyway, I gotta go,” she sighed after taking a sip of coffee. “I’m still working on compiling the map of all the places the pirates have hit that we’re aware of. I’ll see you later.”

  She bounded off, and Junior turned around to take a seat at his own desk.

  “It doesn’t make sense,” Charlie grumbled as Junior took the last of the coffee cups and took a sip. “Why’d they suddenly attack a ship off the coast of Florida? And how? The last we knew of them, they were somewhere near the coast of Britain. And what the hell was that giant monster ship?”

  “Those are all very valid questions,” Junior replied as he rummaged through the box for a doughnut before deciding on a cream-filled eclair.

  They’d seen the video of the attack several times already. There wasn’t any doubt in their minds that it was the same group they’d been tracking for the past couple of months. The flag they’d so proudly flown during the attack had made that evident enough. That warship was new, though. In all other reports and footage they had of the group, they’ve been using smaller vessels than that. Still larger than what average, run-of-the-mill pirates might have used, but certainly nothing on the scale of what had happened yesterday.

  “Business must be going well for them,” Junior sighed as he leaned back in his chair. “If they managed to acquire a ship that large.”

  “That still doesn’t explain how they got to the other side of the world so fast,” Charlie scoffed. “They just attacked a British cargo ship a week ago. You’re telling me they got all the way from there to Florida in that amount of time?”

  “It’s not impossible,” Junior replied, though he was well aware that it was extremely unlikely.

  “What’s more,” Charlie continued, “they didn’t even take anything from this ship, as far as we can tell. They sank the British ship, but they took the goods off of it first. What’s the point of outright sinking a massive cargo ship full of goods if you’re not even going to take anything from it?”

  Junior frowned, unsure what to say in response. That was the real mystery here. Pirates, after all, made their living stealing things. In this case, though, they hadn’t stolen anything at all. They’d rocked up to the cargo ship and just shot the thing to pieces without provocation.

  Well, no provocation that they knew of yet, anyway.

  “They’re escalating,” Junior murmured as he turned to his computer to pull up his notes on the case. “And they’re doing it fast. Our earliest reports just have them taking the stuff. They’d even leave the crews relatively unharmed most of the time. Then they started sinking the ships after raiding them, and now… they’re just going straight to sinking the ships?”

  “So, they’ve just gone nuts?” Miranda suddenly poked her head over the divider that separated their desks from hers and Naomi’s. “They’ve gone off the deep end and just want to cause havoc now?”

  “I guess that is one possibility,” Junior replied as he took a bite of his eclair. “Though I think there’s something more to it. I know it seems, from the survivor’s reports, that there wasn’t any cause for the attack, but that just doesn’t make sense to me.”

  “It doesn’t make sense because it’s not true,” Charlie grumbled as he took a bite of his own doughnut. “There’s something here that we’re missing. I just can’t figure it out. Just when it seemed like we were making some real progress, they go and do something random like this.”

  “Ah, so that’s why you’re all bent out of shape?” Miranda asked knowingly. “You’re upset because you can’t figure out why the bad guys are doing something crazy?”

  Charlie frowned at her.

  “It’s not just that,” a different voice chimed in. Agent Naomi Patel stood up and threw her partner an unimpressed look before circling around the divider to take one of the doughnuts from the box.

  Junior was immediately grateful for her intervention. Naomi, more often than not, ended up being the voice of reason among their group. It was only natural, considering she used to be a diplomat and an ambassador for the American embassy in India. She was good at talking and diffusing situations, which was helpful when two people as opinionated and impulsive and Miranda and Charlie butted heads.

  “He’s annoyed that he has to work with the other agents,” Naomi explained as she plucked one of the sprinkles off of her doughnut. “I understand your perspective, to be honest. It’s difficult to know who we can trust and to what extent. Goodness knows we’ve been betrayed and misled enough times to warrant that level of suspicion. Remember when Charlie and Junior found themselves in Japan surrounded by corrupt police officers?”

  “Remember when someone planted a bomb in Fiona’s office?” Junior added.

  “Or when Agent Howard went on a drug-fueled rage and nearly killed Fiona and Nelson?” Charlie grunted.

  “Okay, yes,” Miranda replied with a nod, “but these are MBLIS agents we’re talking about. And they have years of experience over us. I’d be stoked to work with someone like that.”

  “That’s a good point too,” Naomi replied as she took a doughnut covered with brightly colored sprinkles out of the box. “I suppose there are two sides to everything. We are a relatively new branch. It would be nice to get the perspective of someone who’d been doing this for longer.”

  “And the case sounds really fun.” Miranda pouted as she leaned over the top of the divider. “Pirates toting around a warship with a giant turret on it? I mean, that’s not a good thing, but I’d love to be the one to arrest them.”

  “Aren’t you working on a case right now?” Junior asked her.

  “Yeah, some drug traffickers smuggling cocaine into the country inside hollowed-out children’s toys,” she replied as she stood up straight. “No fun at all.”

  “You have a weird idea of what fun is,” Junior remarked before taking another bite of his doughnut.

  “Nah.” She waved him off dismissively. “Pirates are fun. Everyone knows that. Drugs inside toys just makes me feel depressed for humanity.”

  “Well, suck it up and get back to it,” Naomi huffed as she circled back around the divider with her doughnut. “We have work to do.”

  “Okay, okay,” Miranda sighed as she sank back down into her chair and out of sight.

  Junior smiled to himself. The two of them had a great rapport with each other. Honestly, he got along pretty well with all of them. Even after new agents had started to come on board, the original group of them had remained tightly knit. For that reason, he could understand Charlie’s trepidation in working with someone else.

  “You really think we can’t trust the Miami agents?” Junior asked before popping the last piece of his doughnut into his mouth.

  “Eh, who knows.” Charlie shrugged. “I don’t really trust anyone before I get to know them. I’ve been screwed over too many times to have tha
t kind of faith in anyone. Maybe Miranda’s right, though.”

  “I’m sure she is,” Junior replied, happy to see that his partner’s gloomy mood appeared to have subsided. “Anyway, we should probably try to finish up all the paperwork that still needs doing. We’re supposed to head to the airport in a few hours.”

  “Alright,” Charlie grunted as he finished off his coffee before tossing the empty cup into a small trash bin below his desk. “Let’s get to it, then.”

  5

  Ethan

  The makeshift shelter that the Coast Guard had set up for the survivors of the attack on the boat was located right off the docks. I could see it as we drove up to the edge of the water. They’d likely placed it there deliberately to ensure that anyone who needed medical attention could be tended to as soon as possible after reaching land.

  As I pulled the car into a parking spot, I could see two large tents set up in the open space between the water’s edge and the row of buildings facing the coast. Just beyond them, a row of ambulances was lined against the sidewalk. Several people, including Coast Guard officers and paramedics, were rushing to and fro as they tended to all the victims.

  “Looks like things are still pretty hectic,” Holm noted as we got out of the car. “Didn’t Diane say that the ship went down yesterday?”

  “She did,” I replied as I shut the car door behind me. “Must have been quite a mess if rescue is still ongoing.”

  We walked toward the nearest tent, where a uniformed Coast Guard officer was deep in conversation with a couple of paramedics. We reached him just a moment after the pair flitted off.

  “Excuse me,” I called as I reached into my pocket for my badge.

  “Sorry,” the officer replied as he made to walk away. “This is a restricted area. I’m going to have to ask you to move back.”

  “Actually, we’re agents with MBLIS,” I replied as I presented my badge to him. “We’re investigating the circumstances behind the attack. We were hoping to speak with some of the crewmen who were on board.”

  “Ah, sorry,” the officer replied apologetically, cringing sheepishly as he ran a hand through his hair. “It’s been crazy here since the news broke last night. We've had reporters and nosy tourists trying to stop by to sneak a peek at what’s going on as if this is some kind of sideshow attraction. Anyway, let me take you to my lieutenant. He’ll be able to direct you on where to go.”

  “Thank you,” I replied as the man led us further into the little camp they’d set up. I could see from here that there were a couple of other tents set up as well. I caught a peek inside one of them as a woman in scrubs hurried out, and I almost gasped at the image I caught for just a second. A man was lying inside on a cot, his face and upper body so red with either blood or burns that I couldn’t make out any distinguishing features.

  It wasn’t all that surprising, considering what we’d seen on those videos, but it was still jarring to see the damage first-hand.

  The officer led us to the edge of the dock, where a senior officer, judging by his uniform, spoke to a few of his subordinates. The officer waited for the man to be done speaking before addressing him.

  “Lieutenant Marsh,” the officer said before turning to look at us. “These men are federal agents from… sorry, what was the name of the agency?”

  “MBLIS,” I supplied helpfully. “Military Border Liaison Investigative Services. We’re here to figure out exactly who did this and why.”

  “I’m glad to have you here,” the lieutenant replied before reaching forward to shake my hand and Holm’s. “Thank you, Wilks.”

  The officer nodded politely before turning to leave and return to his post.

  “I have to tell you,” Marsh sighed as he turned back to us. “This is one of the most unbelievable things I’ve seen in my time in the Coast Guard. The only saving grace I can see is that the ship was a cargo boat and not a cruise liner. I can’t imagine how great the loss of life would have been if that was the case.”

  “What is the victim count?” I asked as I looked back around the camp. The number of people rushing around certainly seemed to indicate that things were serious.

  “It’s hard to say at the moment,” the lieutenant replied as he crossed his arms over his chest. “From what we were able to gather from the crewmen, there was a big scramble as everything was going down. Some managed to make it to the emergency life rafts, and some just jumped overboard. We have eyewitness reports about others that were either injured or killed during the attack as well. We still have rescue teams out scouring the water as we speak. Right now, only about a quarter of the crew are accounted for. As for the rest, we can’t say for sure whether they’re dead or still out there somewhere, trying to hold on.”

  I grimaced at the thought—to think that someone might still be out there, desperately clinging to some piece of the wreckage as they wait and hope for someone to come and find them.

  “Have any of the crewmen said anything about what happened?” Holm asked. “We were told that the pirates apparently attacked unprovoked. Has anyone said anything to the contrary?”

  “Not as far as I’m aware,” Lieutenant Marsh replied with a frown. “Though it’s been a bit of a struggle to tell the truth. A lot of them don’t speak a lot of English. We managed to get a couple of translators down here, but it’s still slow going with just the two of them. From what we’ve gathered, though, it seems most of them are giving the same story. A ship suddenly approached them when they were just a few miles out from shore. Apparently, they were flying an American flag and sending out mayday signals.”

  “An American flag?” I repeated with surprise. “The video we saw showed them flying some kind of altered Colombian flag.”

  “Well, apparently they swapped it out,” Marsh replied, shaking his head with disgust. “They got them to lower their guard by pretending to be a vessel in need of help, and once they were close enough, they suddenly raised the other flag and started firing.”

  “Just like that, huh?” I muttered pensively. “If it’s true that they started firing without warning or provocation, then just what exactly are we dealing with here?”

  “I had the same thought,” Marsh scoffed. “I’ve dealt with pirates before. Them, I can understand, even if I don’t condone it. But this? Just sinking a ship full of innocent people without even taking anything? Where’s the logic in that?”

  “That’s what we’re here to find out,” I replied. “You said that most of the men couldn’t speak much English. Was there anyone who could? We’d like to speak with the crewmen for ourselves. There might be something important they’re overlooking.”

  “I can definitely find out,” Marsh replied as he walked over to a large crate filled with supplies. He crouched down to rummage through a backpack propped up against the side of it before emerging with a tablet in his hands. He looked through it quickly as he walked back toward us.

  “Let’s see here… It looks like we’ve got a couple that speaks fairly fluent English. Your best bet might be a Mr. Shun Lieu. He was a second mate on the ship. As far as survivors, he’s the highest-ranking one we’ve located. The captain is missing, presumed dead, to be honest, as are most of the men we haven’t yet located. The second mate will probably have the most information for you. He’s over in recovery tent B.”

  “Thank you,” I replied as he led us over to one of the tents.

  I braced myself for what I might see as he pushed the flap open, but to my relief, there weren’t any injuries in here on the scale of what I’d glimpsed inside the other tent. In fact, it seemed like most of the men in this tent were relatively unharmed. Some were sleeping on cots, while others were just sitting quietly, a dazed look in their eyes. It was a look I’d seen many times before on the faces of survivors of traumatic experiences. They were in shock, their brains probably still trying to process what had happened.

  “Officer Philburt,” Marsh addressed one of the uniformed Coast Guard members inside the tent. The woman
stood at attention immediately. “Where can I find Mr. Shun Lieu?”

  Officer Philburt immediately walked over to a nearby table and plucked a clipboard off of it. She looked around the room for a moment before walking back toward us.

  “He’s the man sitting on the cot third from the left,” she informed us quietly. “Last row, with a bandage on his arm.”

  “Thank you, Officer Philburt,” Marsh replied before leading us over to the man with a nod of his head.

  Marsh approached the man slowly as if walking toward a frightened deer that might bolt at any moment. I couldn’t blame him. The man looked completely shell-shocked. His eyes were blown wide, and he was staring off into space. The only sign of movement coming from him was the way the fingers of his clasped hands would occasionally twitch and fidget.

  “Mr. Lieu?” the lieutenant asked quietly, though he might as well have shouted for how intensely the man reacted. His shoulders tensed, and he jumped at the small sound as he snapped his head around to look at us.

  This was normal too. Auditory startle response, I was fairly certain it was called. People who’d recently experienced traumatizing events entered a heightened state of alertness and fear, and the slightest noise could cause them to react in an unusually extreme way. Even now, the man was staring up at us with wide, fearful eyes, as though he were afraid of us.

  “Y-yes?” he stuttered, his teeth clacking as his eyes flitted quickly between the three of us.

  “I’m Lieutenant Marsh,” the lieutenant replied calmly. “These men are federal agents from a specialized agency that investigates international crimes. They were hoping they could ask you a few questions.”

  “What?” the man croaked, his hands clasped together so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. “I… uh, why? I mean, what do you want me to talk about?”