Bluewater Stalker: The Sixth Novel in the Caribbean Mystery and Adventure Series (Bluewater Thrillers Book 6)

by Charles Dougherty

  She amused herself during the two-and-a-half-hour flight by thinking about seducing Gerald Yates. He was a ladies' man. She didn't expect that he'd be much of a challenge, but then she'd always been able to have any man she wanted. She had been born beautiful, but rich would have been nice, too.

  When she was growing up, her mother had been bitter about their impoverished state. In her mother's view, her great grandmother's illegitimate birth had cut her out of the family's fortune. Instead of dwelling on the wealth and privilege that might have been hers, Marilyn was more pragmatic. She sublimated her bitterness, turning it into a resolve to take what should have been hers.

  A stunning girl, she had certain advantages when it came to making her way. At the age of 20, she had snared a wealthy, elderly husband. His remaining time had been short, his demise perhaps hastened by the pleasure that he found in his young wife. Marilyn had enjoyed her financial independence since then, but she had recently become bored. She needed fresh prey.

  ****

  "Vengeance is a beautiful boat," Gerald said, eyeing her as she swung to a mooring out in the harbor. Having dropped off the dive tanks to be filled, he and Nick were in a waterfront bar and grill in Jolly Harbour.

  "Yeah, but there's no privacy," Nick said. "Those two women can hear everything."

  "So? We don't really have anything to hide."

  "Bullshit, Gerald."

  "Well, okay, but I mean as far as the search goes. We can talk about that in the open with them. They bought my story."

  "Maybe, but trust me, you don't want word to get around that you're looking for any kind of old wreck, treasure or not. Too many curious people out there."

  "Yeah, okay. I don't think they'll talk, Nick. They seem pretty discreet to me."

  "Better not to find out," Nick said.

  "I agree. I think we've laid enough of a smokescreen, though. It's time to focus on where we think Phaedra really went down."

  "But that's inside the territorial waters; you're getting into a whole different game," Nick said.

  "We've established a pattern of beating back and forth like we're fishing. Hell, I've even caught fish while you sat down there staring at your screen," Gerald said.

  "Trust me, Gerald; I've done this before. Half a day of beating back and forth doesn't establish shit. Don't rush this, man. You'll blow it."

  "Nobody's gonna think anything about it when we move in a little closer to shore," Gerald protested.

  "The women will. What are you gonna tell them?"

  "I'll tell 'em we're just looking; we'll say we won't pick up anything without going through the permit process if it comes to that."

  "And what about when we find the wreck? How's that gonna work?" Nick asked.

  "One step at a time, Nick. You find the wreck; I'll handle the women. Remember, I make up stories for a living. I'll think of something."

  Chapter 2

  Dani was intent on sailing, enjoying the challenge of holding a steady course in the gusty wind that greeted them as they sailed out of the lee of Antigua. She and Liz were in the cockpit with Gerald, enjoying the morning. Nick was below, tinkering with his instruments and studying his personal collection of dog-eared, frayed nautical charts. He kept them to himself, arousing some curiosity on the part of his hostesses.

  They had just finished a round of coffee. Gerald was sprawled on the downwind cockpit seat, arms spread along the cockpit coaming. His legs were stretched out with his ankles crossed in the foot well. His head was thrown back, eyes closed, face to the early morning sun. Liz sat across from him, covertly admiring his profile, studying the way his soft-looking blond hair floated on the breeze.

  A puff of wind caused the sails to luff; the rattle of the canvas brought Gerald to full alert. Liz blushed when he caught her staring at him. Hoping to distract him, she cleared her throat and asked, "So what's it like, being a writer? Are you always collecting material for your next book?"

  "Well, I'm always collecting material for some book, if not the next one. It's one of those things I can't help, like breathing, I guess."

  He held her eye for a moment, trying to assess the level of her interest. "That's a tough question to answer, you know. What it's like to be a writer. It's ... let's see ... "

  "Like asking a fish what it's like to live in the water?" she offered.

  He laughed. "Very good. Yes, it's one of those questions that requires some soul-searching. All I've ever been is a writer, I guess, even before I put pen to paper for the first book. Are you artistic?"

  "Well, um, ... "

  "She's a painter," Dani offered. "A gifted one, but she won't admit it."

  "Uh-huh, I suspected as much."

  "That I was a painter?"

  "No, not specifically, but I could sense some creative talent. The insight in your answer to your own question gave it away."

  "I see. I know that you write fiction; what about this book about your family? Will it be fictional, or factual?"

  "I'm not sure. I suspect it'll be a bit of both. The interesting parts of my family history, at least the parts that interest me most, happened before every minute detail of our lives got recorded for posterity."

  "That's fascinating; the research must be a challenge," Liz said.

  "There are a few facts to work with but most of the good stuff is hearsay — you know, like family gossip and rumors."

  "So how far back in time will you go?" Liz asked.

  "Probably to America's colonial era. That's the part of my family lore that fires my imagination."

  "So your ancestors were colonists?"

  "That's right. They were some of the original settlers in Georgia; they came with General Oglethorpe."

  "That's impressive," Liz offered.

  "Not really; they were escaping debtor's prison. They probably didn't see that they had much choice."

  "But they prospered, didn't they?"

  "Yes, but that just means they were lucky and crafty. Probably a little more crooked than their compatriots." A self-deprecating smile split Gerald's face.

  "So what about Phaedra? She belonged to some of your ancestors, you said," Dani commented.

  "Yes. That was several generations later. My earliest ancestors established a plantation that thrived, and their children and grandchildren were loyal subjects of the Crown. When the colonies revolted, the family split into two factions. One stayed and fought the British; the other fled to the islands and established themselves as cotton and sugar planters. Over a few generations, they came to control most of the island of Barbuda, as well as large estates on Antigua."

  "Did the factions ever reconcile?"

  "Of course. They were merchants; there was money to be made. They were working together within a generation after the revolution. By the time of the Civil War, they were intermarrying and carrying on a brisk trade. When it became apparent that the South was losing, they decided to consolidate in the Caribbean, at least for a while."

  "So they were on Phaedra?" Dani asked.

  "Not personally. Phaedra belonged to the family. They had three small ships when the war broke out; she was the only one left. One of my uncles several generations back was a blockade runner; he was Phaedra's skipper. They lost that first shipment of their stuff when Phaedra went down in a storm."

  "How do you know even the approximate location?" Dani asked.

  "A couple of the crew survived. They were found by another ship a day or so later clinging to wreckage, and they made it ashore to the plantation. I found a reference to the wreck in one of the reports, and from what the crewmen said, they were somewhere up on this shallow shelf."

  "Makes sense," Dani said. "Even in normal conditions, this area gets rough when the swells pile up in the relatively shallow water. I wouldn't want to see it under storm conditions."

  ****

  Nick Thompson sat below decks at Vengeance's chart table, fiddling with the knobs on his side-scan sonar display. He had an ear tuned to the conversation in the c
ockpit, and when he was satisfied that he wouldn't be disturbed, he made his way to the forward head and closed the door, taking out his satellite phone. He scrolled through the directory, pausing at one entry and pressing the green connect button. When the other party answered, Nick began talking with no introduction.

  "He's too damned eager. He's wanting to go straight to where he thinks it sunk. I gotta slow him down or the damned antiquities people will be all over us." He listened briefly. "Yeah, okay. I'll come up with something. Not sure about tonight, but I'll find an excuse to get us back to English Harbour tomorrow, maybe."

  Disconnecting, he slipped the phone back into his pocket and returned to monitoring his instruments. He didn't expect to find their target yet; the wreck of Phaedra wouldn't be this far from where Yates expected her to be. But this area was littered with wrecks, and he intended to mark every one. He could always come back after he was done with this gig.

  "Can I get you some juice? More coffee, maybe?" Liz asked as she stepped down from the companionway ladder, interrupting his thoughts.

  He turned to face her and grinned. "No, thanks, Liz. I'm okay."

  "Did you learn about all this in the Navy?" she asked.

  "Yeah, mostly. I learned about diving in the Navy, and some other stuff I can't talk about. Then I went to work for a professional treasure hunter."

  "So did you ever find a treasure ship?"

  He laughed. "No. For all I know, that guy was a first-rate con man. He was forever raising money from investors to fund his 'sure things,' but we never found squat. My job was to make the investors think we had the skill. I finally got bored and went to work for a salvage company."

  "So how'd you connect with Gerald?"

  "Known him since we were kids. We went to school together, then we kind of drifted apart when he went to college and I joined the Navy. I bumped into him in a waterfront bar in Savannah a few months ago, and he told me about looking for Phaedra. He didn't even know what I'd been up to until I told him."

  "Sounds like fate brought you together, then."

  "I guess."

  "So did you know any of his family back then?"

  "Gerald's family?"

  "Yes. You said you grew up together."

  "Well, he didn't really have any close family. Just his old man. His mother died when he was little."

  "Oh. I got the idea he was part of this huge family."

  "Yeah. I guess that's technically so, but by now, they're all scattered to hell and back. Lots of distant cousins — nobody he even really knew, from what I could tell. Lot of the old Southern families are like that. He was kind of a loner. You from a big family, Liz?"

  "No. I was an only child of two only children, and both parents are dead now."

  "Me, too. Makes you wonder about families like the Yates's."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "Well, you'd think with all those cousins, they'd try to get to know one another."

  "I see what you mean."

  "You still offering juice?"

  "Sure. Coming right up."

  "Thanks. Nice talking with you, but I've gotta get back to work, here. Maybe one of these evenings I could buy you a drink. Or dinner?"

  "That would be nice." Liz handed him a moisture-beaded glass. "Sorry for the interruption."

  "No problem. Thanks." He nodded absently as he took the glass, his eyes focused on the screen.

  ****

  "Hey, Dani?"

  "Yes?"

  "I'm thinking we need to change our game a little," Gerald said. The two of them were alone in the cockpit. Liz was below cleaning up the galley after lunch, and Nick was still glued to his electronics.

  "What have you got in mind?"

  "Nick hasn't had a hit all day. I think we're off track; maybe this area's not on the way to anywhere from anywhere."

  "You're the boss, Gerald. Just tell me where you want to go."

  "How would you feel about sailing a grid closer in to Antigua and Barbuda?"

  "Much closer in and we'd be in their territorial waters," Dani said.

  "Right. Is that a problem?"

  "Not for me, but what if you find something?"

  "Finding something's what I'm trying to do." He grinned.

  "You can't take anything inside the limit without permits, and they're pretty tough to come by. The government wants their share, and they're worried about preserving archaeological value, too."

  "We could look, though. Right? As long as we don't pick up anything?"

  "Yes, I suppose that's so, but all your equipment might make the government a little suspicious."

  "I don't want to do anything illegal, or get you in trouble. If we find Phaedra, we could just mark the position and then go through all the right channels, if there's even anything to salvage. Mostly, I want to know if there really was a Phaedra before I write about it."

  Dani frowned, thinking. "I don't want to get Vengeance impounded, or anything."

  "Tell you what," Gerald said. "I'll sign a hold-harmless agreement, if you want. I'll make it good. If anything happens to the boat, or anything, you'd be covered."

  "You know what you'd be signing up to?" she asked.

  A charming grin spread across his face; he shook his head. "How much?" he asked.

  "An even million dollars."

  "Whoa! Vengeance is a beautiful boat, but I had no idea ... "

  "I thought maybe you didn't. I'd want a bond, if we did that."

  "You don't trust me? I don't blame you, I guess."

  "It's business," Dani said.

  He nodded. "I'll think about it.

  Chapter 3

  "You know, this is the strangest charter we've ever done," Liz remarked.

  "No kidding. I can't believe they want to stay in that villa every night. You think they're gay?"

  Liz thought for a moment, taking a sip of coffee as they both gazed across the water toward the small village of Codrington, Barbuda. A narrow strip of low, sandy ground separated the anchorage from the shallow, protected lagoon. The village was on the other side of the lagoon, about a mile and a half away. The two men were taking a tour of the island, as Gerald wanted to get a feel for where his family had once held sway. "I don't think so. Nick hinted about going out for a drink or dinner with me."

  "That doesn't mean anything."

  "No, but the way he was looking at me when he thought I wasn't paying attention does."

  "Maybe. Lot of those guys are bi."

  "What guys, Dani?"

  "Gym rats."

  Liz shook her head and chuckled. "You're hopeless."

  "So are you going out with him?"

  "Maybe. He hasn't asked, yet," Liz said, dismissing the topic with a shrug. "You were having quite a talk with Gerald earlier. What's on his mind?"

  "He chickened out on that hold-harmless agreement I told you about last night."

  "That's a relief. Who wants all that red tape, anyway?"

  "Not me. I figured the amount would scare him off."

  "So what's he going to do if he thinks Phaedra's inside the 12-mile limit?" Liz asked.

  "He didn't say. He said Nick thought they should mark all the wrecks outside the limit and exhaust them first. If they find her outside the limit, there's no worry."

  ****

  Marilyn sat sipping coffee, the remains of her room-service brunch on the small table under the window. Her suite at the Admiral's Inn overlooked English Harbour; she idly studied the luxury yachts tied with their sterns to the quay. She knew that some were in the charter trade; she wondered what it would be like to cruise the islands aboard one of them. Perhaps when she was finished with her current project, she'd look into that.

  Checking her watch, she decided to call the investigator her lawyer had recommended. When she talked with him yesterday, he had nothing to report, but he had expected to know more about Gerald's whereabouts by today. Marilyn identified herself to the man's secretary and was put through to him without delay.

&
nbsp; "Good morning, Ms. Muir. Are you in Antigua yet?"

  "Yes. I got in night before last. Any news on where he's staying?"

  "Yes, some. There are two possibilities."

  "Well?" she asked, impatient.

  "He's chartered a yacht — Vengeance, it's called."

  "Oh, great!" Her voice dripped with sarcasm. "How the hell am I supposed to ... "

  "He's also rented a villa at a place called Jolly Harbour," he interrupted.

  "Any idea of what he's up to, then?" she asked.

  "No, but he's also got someone with him."

  "Somebody to warm his bed, no doubt," she said.

  "I don't know; no other indications that he's gay, but I guess he ... "

  "Gay? What are you talking about? He's got women all over the ... "

  "I don't have a name for his traveling companion yet. He's a ... "

  "What? A man?"

  "Definitely, Ms. Muir. I'm still waiting for more background."

  "When will you have something?"

  "A day or two. I could call ... "

  "I'd prefer to call you."

  "As you wish, ma'am."

  She disconnected and considered what she had learned. Two days ago, all she had known besides his reputation as a womanizer was that Gerald was planning a trip to Antigua. That much she had managed to get from his agent when she called posing as a journalist seeking an interview. His being in a villa presented certain logistical problems, although it might well be an opportunity once she managed to get him under her spell. The presence of this unidentified male companion was puzzling. Although she had denied it to the investigator, she reflected on the possibility that Gerald was a homosexual.

  If so, he kept it well hidden, but that could interfere with her plans. Of course, she thought, he could be bisexual. She pondered whether that might give her some leverage. Could she use a homosexual liaison to put pressure on him, to bend him to her will? Possibly. She would keep that in mind.

  Meanwhile, she had to contrive a way to meet him. She had assumed he would be staying in a resort, where there would have been opportunities to stage what would have appeared to be a chance encounter. If he was dividing his time between a private yacht and a rented villa, her task might be more difficult. She consoled herself, remembering how much she enjoyed a challenge.