"All right, then. Keep your cellphone up here in the cockpit where you can hear it, in case we need something."
"Like what?" Connie asked.
Paul shrugged. "You never know. Anyway, I'll give you a call when we leave downtown so you'll know when to expect us."
Connie nodded. "Good luck, Sadie. See you after a while."
Sadie climbed down into the dinghy, and Paul kissed Connie goodbye.
"Don't work too hard," he said, as he joined Sadie in the dinghy and bent to start the outboard.
Connie waved as the dinghy pulled away, watching until she saw them approaching the dock. Then she gathered up the breakfast dishes and took them below, thinking that she might as well wash them and put them away. She would need the counter space in the galley to strain and thin the varnish. Before she got out the varnishing supplies, she checked the state of her iPhone's battery. Satisfied that it was almost fully charged, she slipped the phone into the pocket of her shorts and opened the locker above the engine where she kept her varnish and thinner.
****
"Mr. Pratt?"
"Yeah," Pratt said, the sat phone held to his ear. "Semmes?"
"Yes, sir. I just — "
"Freddy show up yet?"
"Yes, sir. We're headed toward you. We'll be passing in a couple of minutes. I wanted — "
"Boy, I thought I told you to take Freddy to Ste. Anne."
"Yes, sir. We're on our way, but I wanted to tell you that Etienne just called. He said the couple went ashore and a woman met them on the dock and led them into town."
"What about the girl?" Pratt asked.
"They haven't seen her come ashore, so she must still be on Diamantista II."
"Shit!" Pratt said. "That's a perfect setup. Haul ass back here. You and me gotta switch places."
"Sir?"
"Change of plans," Pratt said. "Me and Freddy'll take the picnic boat. You take Morning Mist out over the horizon to the west and wait. We'll snatch Sadie and meet you out there."
Pratt disconnected the call and rushed down to the swim platform as Semmes brought the picnic boat alongside. Pratt leapt aboard as Semmes scrambled out.
"Mr. Pratt, remember the picnic boat's not cleared in with French customs. Try to avoid the French Coast Guard. They sometimes patrol the anchorage at Ste. Anne looking for boats that haven't cleared in."
"Yeah, okay, Semmes. My big problem is I don't know where the hell that boat is."
"I programmed the chart plotter to take you right to the town dock. Etienne said Diamantista II is anchored about 200 meters southwest of the dock. Should be easy to spot her."
"Great. Haul ass outta here like I told you, boy."
With that, Pratt pushed the single lever control for the hydraulic jet propulsion system all the way forward and the picnic boat roared away.
He turned to the two uniformed crewmen still aboard the picnic boat. "You got weapons aboard?"
The man who stood nearest to Pratt shook his head. "No, sir!"
"Shit!" Pratt said.
"Boss, we don't need no weapons. It's just Sadie," Freddy said.
"You wasn't never in the Boy Scouts, was you, dumb-ass?"
Freddy frowned and shook his head. "No, boss. They didn't have no Scout troop at the juvenile detention center. Why d'you ask?"
Pratt rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Never mind. At least I got my Glock."
Pratt felt his phone vibrating and motioned for Freddy to take the helm as he answered. "What is it, Semmes?"
"Etienne just called. Monique followed the couple into town. The woman who met them led them to a car parked on a side street. Monique overheard her complaining about how bad the traffic would be getting into Fort-de-France."
"What made you think I'd give a shit about that, Semmes?"
"Sir, that means they're going to be gone for two or three hours, at least. I thought it might be good for you to know, in case you had to dodge the Coast Guard."
"Oh. Yeah, okay, Semmes. Anything else?"
"No, sir."
"You underway yet?"
"Yes, sir. We just cleared Pigeon Island and I'm accelerating to cruising speed. We'll be over the horizon in maybe half an hour."
"Good," Pratt said, disconnecting the call.
"When we get there, I'll take us alongside their boat," Pratt said, taking the helm back from Freddy. He looked down at the chart plotter, which indicated an ETA at the town dock in twenty minutes. "You go aboard and grab her. Knock the shit out of her, so she don't struggle, and we'll be outta there before anybody figures out what's happened."
"Okay, boss," Freddy said, grinning. "That's my favorite part of the job."
"Makin' a snatch?" Pratt raised his eyebrows.
"No, boss. Slappin' the bitches around. They're soft, like punchin' a damn pillow. Sometimes it's hard to stop."
"Yeah, well save that for later, ya fuckin' nut job. Just stun her and get her off the damn boat. Understand?"
"Sure, boss."
Chapter 23
Connie was bent over the cockpit table, intent on laying on a smooth coat of varnish. She had saved the table top for last; she'd already touched up a number of small dings in various places that she had marked with small tags of masking tape. The table didn't really need touching up, but an extra coat of varnish never hurt, and she had thinned more than she needed for the dings. Besides, laying on varnish over a surface like that was relaxing.
There had been a lot of small boat traffic in the anchorage all morning, so she wasn't paying much attention to the comings and goings of others, except as it necessitated her pausing in her work. She didn't notice the approach of the dark blue picnic boat until it was almost alongside. The change in pitch of its engine caused her to look up as it came to a stop inches from Diamantista II's rail.
She laid her brush across the lip of the can in which she'd mixed her varnish and stood up, putting her hands on her hips, stretching the muscles in her back. Frowning, she wondered what the two men in the boat's cockpit could want. As the one at the helm stopped the boat, the other one let out a wolf whistle and leapt aboard Diamantista II, leering at her, a foolish grin on his battered face. She saw two uniformed crewmen emerge from the forward cabin of the picnic boat and grab Diamantista II's lifelines, fending off the picnic boat. As the man on the side deck approached the cockpit, she slipped the eight-inch rigging knife from its sheath at the side of the helm, hiding it next to her right thigh.
"What do you want?" she yelled. "Get off my boat, now!"
His vacuous grin spread even wider. "Aw now, don't be thatta way, baby. Ol' Freddy just wants to make you feel real good. I ain't never had no complaints from purty ladies before. You gonna like this, I promise." He had been edging closer as he talked.
Connie, her eyes fixed on the center of his chest, saw the slight ripple in his muscles as he set his feet and moved his right hand across in front of his left thigh. He swung with the speed of a rattler's strike, but she was ready. She twisted and leaned back, letting his vicious backhand punch pass within a couple of inches of her face.
His momentum threw him off balance when his blow didn't land, and she stepped into him before he could recover. Hooking her bent left arm under his right armpit for leverage, she smashed her forehead into his nose and simultaneously jerked the knife up into his groin, her weight behind it. She felt the jolt as the blade lodged against his right femur. She twisted the knife to free it and began working the blade back and forth, probing, trying to sever his femoral artery. His screams in her ear were deafening, but she still heard the gunshot as she saw the teak decking beside her leg splinter.
She shifted her left arm and turned the two of them, putting him between her and the man in the boat. "I'll kill him in a heartbeat," she yelled.
"I don't give a shit. Then I'll have a clear shot at your pretty legs. I ain't gonna kill you, but I'll sure fuck you up bad if you don't drop that knife. You got to the count of three, then I'm gonna shoot that dumb sumb
itch myself and pop your kneecaps, bitch. One ... two ... "
Connie tossed the knife around her victim and eased her grip, letting him slump to the cockpit seat as she raised her hands. "What do you want?" she asked.
"That's better. I'm here for Sadie."
"She's not here."
"Yeah, I can see that. You'll do for a trade. Get your ass in the boat, now, and don't do nothin' stupid. I ain't gonna kill you, but I will hurt you if you don't do what I say."
Connie stepped around the moaning man and climbed down into the picnic boat.
"Good. Turn around and put your hands behind you. Cuff her," he barked, as she complied with his instructions.
She felt zip ties drawn tight around her wrists, and then she was pushed down onto the seat across the back of the cockpit.
"You just lie there and take it easy," the man with the pistol said. "You boys, get up there and drag that big dumb-ass over here. I'll hold on while you get him aboard. Move it!"
****
"That was a pretty good morning's work," Paul said. He was in the back seat of Sandrine's car, leaning forward so that his head was between Sadie and Sandrine as they sat in traffic. "Thanks for setting that up, Sandrine. I didn't realize you and Luke had arranged for video conferencing."
"Since we have to go to the office downtown, I call Luke yesterday and offer. I think why not to do it that way, yes?"
"Yes. It made it much more productive for Luke, I'm sure."
"Now, who was that guy, again?" Sadie asked. "The one Luke had the pictures of?"
"His name's Xavier Rojas," Paul said. "He's the Colombian consul in Miami; he has been for years. We always suspected he was connected to one of the cartels, but there was never enough to support a warrant to really check him out. Putting him on Pratt's boat for the meeting in St. Barth will do it."
"So that's why Luke was so excited?" Sadie asked.
"Yes. That was an unexpected bonus."
"How did Luke know to ask me about him?"
"He was a known associate of Hector Ochoa, the guy you spotted in the fashion magazine."
"Is he in one of the cartels? Hector Ochoa, I mean?"
"That looks like a strong possibility, given the company he keeps. He's never been suspected before from what Luke said. He was just well known as a rich Colombian playboy. He hung out in Miami from time to time over the years, but nobody ever thought anything of it. He was a smooth guy, into all the society stuff. Never did anything suspicious, but it all came together for Luke and the DEA guys when you put him on that boat."
"Hey, don't forget, you're supposed to call Connie," Sadie said.
"I haven't forgotten. I was just waiting until traffic started moving, so I'd have a better idea when we'd get there."
"Sandrine, is there a good restaurant for lunch in Ste. Anne?" Sadie asked. "I'd like to treat everybody. I'm feeling pretty good about things today."
"Mais oui, but of course. You wish that I should book the table?"
"Can you join us?" Sadie asked. "I mean, I know we've taken you away from your office all morning. I could wait and do dinner, if you — "
"No, c'est bon. This is part of working for me, this helping to catch the criminals. Is what I do, some days. They are maybe try to bring their drugs to Martinique sometime. Who knows?"
"Oh. Okay, then."
"I call now for the table. Paul, you tell Connie 45 minutes, yes? The traffic will clear just up ahead, I think."
Paul loosened his seatbelt and arched his back, struggling to get his phone out of his front pants pocket. He entered his passcode and speed-dialed Connie's number. A frown creased his brow as his call went to her voicemail.
"Is all set?" Sandrine asked, catching his eye in her rearview mirror.
He shook his head. "She's not answering."
"She maybe has gone ashore," Sandrine said.
"No. Sadie and I took the dinghy, remember? She was stranded on the boat. Something's wrong. Does Phillip have a way to get out there without going all the way into Marin for your dinghy?"
"Phillip has gone with Sharktooth," Sandrine said. "He has left me the message earlier, when we were on the video conference. They go to Rodney Bay in Lightning Bolt to look at the Morning Mist. I use the lights and siren, now." Sandrine reached across into the glove box and took out a magnetic emergency light. She reached through her open window and affixed the blue flasher to the roof of the car. Turning on the siren, she swung out into the oncoming traffic, passing the line of cars that blocked their progress.
"I thought Sharktooth put a tracker on Morning Mist," Paul said. "Why didn't they — "
"The tracker, it did not work this morning; Phillip told me in his message. Some technical problem, maybe. So they wish to be sure. Maybe you call Sharktooth's satellite phone?"
"Yes," Paul said, scrolling down the directory screen on his phone. He raised it to his ear and shook his head after a moment. "Sharktooth, it's Paul. Call my cellphone as soon as you get this, please."
"No answer?" Sandrine asked, as she swerved through the traffic.
"Subscriber not available," Paul said. "They're probably moving too fast for the satellite link to stay up."
****
"How's Freddy?" Pratt asked, idly running his thumb over the screen of Connie's iPhone. She was locked in an extra cabin in the crew's quarters.
"Pretty rough," Semmes said. He sat near the chart table on the bridge with Pratt. "Willy put a tourniquet on his leg; he thinks she might have nicked the artery."
"Does Willy know what he's doin'?"
"Yes, sir. He was a Navy medic attached to a Recon Marine unit in Iraq for several tours. He's good, but he can only do so much. He says without a surgeon, Freddy's chances aren't good. Is there any way we could get him to a hospital? We could use the chopper."
"No. We gotta focus on the problem we got in front of us. Freddy got what he deserved, lettin' a damn woman get the best of him. Stupid shit. He's tough, anyway. We'll get him some help after we finish."
Semmes nodded. "Yes, sir. What's next?"
"I'm thinkin' I want to call Russo on this phone, start workin' him. He'll know we got his wife if we call on her phone, see."
"Yes, sir, but we won't have service out here. You could use the satellite phone."
"Yeah, but that won't have the same shock value as him seein' the call come in from her phone."
"You could let him talk to her for a second or two."
"Later, Semmes. You gotta know some psychological shit to do this kinda thing. You gotta build the tension, get him off balance, so he's not thinkin' straight. This sumbitch is a cop. He ain't gonna be no easy touch. I want to run his ass ragged, make him worry. We gotta get him to bring Sadie to us."
"How are we going to work a trade, Mr. Pratt?"
"We ain't, but we gotta make him think we are. That means we gotta set it all up like we're really gonna swap 'em. It's gotta be complicated enough so he buys it, thinks it's a workable swap. If he thinks it's an ambush, there ain't no tellin' what he might do."
"I didn't mean to eavesdrop, sir, but I heard you talking to Lt. Delgado the other day about the woman."
"Yeah. That's another problem. What did you hear?"
"Something about her being part of one of the Mexican cartels. If you don't mind my asking, where did you hear that?"
Pratt stared at Semmes for several long seconds, sizing up his subordinate. At last, he nodded. "The man down south picked it up from somewhere."
"Do you believe it?"
"I didn't, until I saw what she did to Freddy. Now I'm not so sure. She took him down without even breathin' hard. She'd a killed him on the spot if I hadn't stopped her. I'm gonna talk to her some. If she's connected, that could be a problem down the road, but that makes Russo dirty, so he's fair game. If she ain't connected, and he's clean, I got a different problem. One way I'm a cop killer an' the other I start a damn war. You got any ideas?"
Semmes shook his head and didn't say anything.
>
After a while, Pratt said, "I'm thinkin' we should run in toward shore until we get a cellphone signal, and I'll make the call. You think they'll be able to get our location?"
"They might get a single bearing, but they won't have much accuracy."
"What's that mean, Semmes?"
"At best, they'll get a rough location, but it'll only be accurate within several miles. They'll know we were a few miles off the west coast of Martinique, but that's about it. That leaves a lot of water to search."
"Okay. I'll want to call again, later, and let her talk to him for a few seconds, keep his anxiety level up. You know, like make her scream or something."
"Okay. Here's my thought, Mr. Pratt. We'll run up to the northeast until we get a signal. That'll put us somewhere off the entrance to Fort-de-France. You make your call, and keep it short. Then we make a full-throttle run south until we're off St. Lucia. Maybe around Castries or further south. We'll get a signal from St. Lucia and you can make your second call from there. Then we'll run to the northwest. That'll put us somewhere close to where we are now. How are you figuring to set them up?"
"I'll tell him to sail west until somebody in a small, local fishing boat meets him. He'll give them the girl, and we'll release his wife somewhere near Ste. Anne at the same time. We'll give her her phone, and she can call whoever he says to verify that she's okay before he gives up the girl. That sound reasonable?"
"Maybe, if he buys it. How will he know you aren't going to ambush him?"
"Could he be watching on radar, maybe?"
"Maybe," Semmes said. "A small enough fishing boat out in open water won't be much of a radar target, but we would, or the picnic boat would. You could suggest that to him. Where are we going to get a fishing boat?"
"One of the ski boats ought to do it. It'll be after dark. By the time he's close enough to know the difference, we waste him and anybody with him, snatch Sadie, and sink the boat. Whaddaya think?"
"Good enough for now. Do you want me to take us in toward Fort-de-France?"
"Yeah. We're gonna have to get the unlock code for this phone from the woman. Get somebody to bring her up to my cabin. I'll talk to her while you take us in."
Running Under Sail Page 17
