Bluewater Rendezvous: The Eighth Novel in the Caribbean Mystery and Adventure Series (Bluewater Thrillers Book 8)

by Charles Dougherty

  "Yes, Mr. Andretti?" the man asked, swallowing hard.

  "You spend too much time in the office," Franco said.

  "Sorry, Mr. Andretti. It's the quiet time of day; I was just catching up on the — "

  "That waitress that was here," Franco said, watching the man's eyes sweep the room, looking for her. "Don't bother lookin'. She ain't workin' here no more."

  A nervous grin spread across the manager's face. "Did she, um — "

  "She was stealin' from the customers. From us, too, most likely. I took care of it."

  "Yes, sir. I'm sorry I — "

  "Yeah, you are. Don't let it happen again. Right now, you got a problem. You know what it is?"

  The man frowned and shook his head.

  "My drink's empty. So's that man's over there watchin' what's her name shake her ass. You ain't got a waitress on the floor, and in another thirty minutes, the after-work crowd's gonna be here. You know how to hire a waitress? Quick?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Good. Go do it. And get the bartender out here to freshen up everybody's drinks."

  "Yes, sir. I'm sorry, Mr. Andretti."

  Franco gave the man a cold stare, waiting until he bobbed his head and scurried away before he called Carmen back.

  ****

  "What ya got, Carmen."

  "I managed to hack into the charter broker's system a little while ago."

  "Great. What's new?"

  "Vengeance is under charter to a woman named Carlotta Solanó. The charter was for a two-week minimum, paid in advance, with the option to extend it another two weeks. That costs extra, by the way."

  "The option to extend costs extra?"

  "Yeah, I guess because they can't book someone else until this Solanó woman makes up her mind about the last two weeks."

  Franco shook his head. As smart as she was, Carmen took a lot of worthless detours. "The name might be useful, but I don't see what the extra cost has to do with anything."

  "I don't know. Just passing it along. There's gonna be another person, too, but no name listed."

  "Okay. How'd this Solanó pay for the charter? It's gotta be pricey, right?"

  "Yeah. $10,000 per week. There was a wire transfer for $30,000 from a numbered account in the Cayman Islands. If she decides on the second two weeks, she owes another $10,000 in the next seven days."

  "Any address for Solanó?"

  "No, nothing."

  "See what you can find on her, okay?"

  "Yeah, sure."

  "You get anything else on Berger and Chirac?"

  "Not yet. They don't seem to have any credit cards."

  "That's gotta be bullshit. Anybody with a million-dollar yacht's gotta have plastic."

  "Maybe they're just hired help, Mr. Andretti. Remember, it's owned by that corporation in Delaware."

  "Yeah, even so, they gotta have some kinda cards, bank accounts, somethin'."

  "I'm still checking. I'm betting they've got cards outside the U.S."

  "Can't you check them?"

  "Yeah, sure, but it takes a little longer."

  "All right. Keep at it, and call me as soon as you find anything. Good work so far." He disconnected the call and picked up the fresh drink the bartender had delivered while he was on the phone.

  ****

  "Hey, Don Guido," Willy said. "Sorry to bother you during dinner. I tried to call Franco, but he don't answer, an' I got somethin', maybe."

  "It's okay, Willy. He's sittin' here with me, stuffin' himself with Lupe's pasta. I'll put you on the speaker." He set the iPhone on the table and touched the speakerphone icon. "What d'ya got?"

  "Well, Franco gimme the names of the boat and them women this mornin', all right?"

  "Yeah, sure."

  "So, me and Fats figured it wouldn't hurt nothin' to call Louis in Antigua an' see if he could find out anything about the boat. He just called me back. That boat, Vengeance, it cleared out from Antigua yesterday with three women aboard. Same three was on it when it came in from St. Thomas. The two you told me about, plus they listed a Carlotta Solanó as a passenger. They was goin' to Fajardo, Puerto Rico."

  "Good work, Willy. Smart to get Louis to check on that. Thanks for callin'."

  "No problem, Don Guido. You want me to go to Fajardo? It ain't far."

  "Just hang on. We'll call you back."

  "Me and Fats will be here."

  "What about Joe Bones?" Guido asked.

  "Yeah. Him, too."

  "Sit tight, all of you." Guido disconnected the call and looked across the table at Franco.

  "What do you think?" he asked, after a moment.

  Franco took a sip of wine. "I got another call from Carmen this morning after we spoke, but I didn't think it was anything to bother you with then."

  "What did she have?"

  "She hacked into the charter broker's computer. The woman who chartered the boat was the one Willy just said was a passenger. At first, I figured maybe it was Angela, just using that name, so I didn't think much of it. But now ... " Franco paused.

  "It could still be Angela," Guido said. "How did she pay for it?"

  "Wired thirty grand from a numbered account in the Cayman Islands. I don't think — "

  "No, that don't sound like Angela. She ain't got a numbered account, let alone that kinda money," Guido said.

  "Yeah. Besides, Solanó's a Spanish name, and goin' to Puerto Rico ... she woulda had to show a passport to get into Antigua. Angela ain't got any way to get a fake passport, does she?"

  "I don't think so. Not one that would fool an immigration officer with one of them scanner things. You think they got them scanners in Antigua?"

  "Yeah, I imagine. It's a pretty upscale place; they got a bunch of offshore banking, all that kinda shit. Not like some of them little islands. And did you catch that Willy said she came into Antigua on the boat?" Guido asked.

  "Yeah. From St. Thomas. That don't add up, though."

  "What don't add up, Franco?"

  "Why they'd go from St. Thomas to Antigua, spend a couple days, and turn around and go back to Puerto Rico. It ain't but like, thirty miles west from St. Thomas to Puerto Rico. Antigua must be two hundred miles east of St. Thomas." Franco shook his head.

  "Maybe she just likes sailin'," Guido mused. "Still, there're those calls from the satellite phone to Welsh's phone."

  "And his office, too," Franco added. "What about them?"

  "Pretty damn big coincidence. They happen the same time Angela skips out. They come from a phone that's on that same charter boat, Vengeance. She was gonna meet Welsh on a charter boat in Antigua. Vengeance was there in Antigua at the right time." Guido shook his head. "I don't know, Franco. What else could it be?"

  "There must be a zillion charter boats down there. Could be this Solanó broad's a client of his, for all we know."

  Don Guido was quiet, sipping his wine, staring down at his plate. He looked up at Franco and shook his head.

  "What do you wanna do, boss?" Franco asked.

  "Get your hacker girl to work on Solanó."

  "She's already doin' that," Franco said.

  "And you got Sol chasin' down Berger and Chirac?"

  "Yeah. Plus Carmen's still workin' the credit card angle on them. And on Solanó."

  "Okay," Guido said. "Send Willy to Fajardo. We got some pretty good contacts in San Juan. He knows who to call."

  "What about Joe Bones?"

  Guido gave him a sharp look. "What about him?"

  "You want him to go with Willy?"

  "Nah. Leave him in St. Thomas."

  Chapter 17

  "This is as pretty as Deshaies, in its own way," Angela said, gazing at the village of Bourg des Saintes. Vengeance swung on a public mooring in the main harbor of Îles des Saintes. "It's a lot busier than Deshaies, though."

  "Just wait," Liz said. "It's about to get even busier. The ferries from the mainland of Guadeloupe will start showing up in the next 30 minutes or so. See all those people milling around on
that dock?" She gestured at a massive concrete pier a couple of hundred meters off their starboard quarter.

  Angela turned and looked at them through the binoculars. "They've all got luggage. They must have spent the night, huh?"

  "Yes. They'll go back to Pointe-à-Pitre on the first ferry. This is a popular getaway for locals and tourists. There will be hordes of people coming all during the day — lots more day-trippers than overnight visitors. The village will be overrun with them."

  "I'd like to go ashore and wander around before it gets too crowded," Angela said, "unless we need to leave to get to Martinique."

  "Until we get a better idea of what's going on, this is as good a place to hide as any," Dani said. "The attraction of Martinique is that we'll have access to some of my father's associates if we need help for any reason. Otherwise, we're fine here."

  "How long would it take to get to Martinique?" Angela asked.

  "If we leave here early, we can anchor in St. Pierre before dark," Liz said. "That's at the northern end of Martinique. Or, we can break the trip by stopping in Portsmouth, Dominica, if we hear from Sharktooth. Without him to keep an eye on things, though, we'd be a little more exposed to your father's spies there."

  "From St. Pierre to Ste. Anne, Martinique, is a day's sail," Dani added. "That's where our friends live."

  "So, if you want to go ashore early, I know where to find some fresh, hot pastries and coffee for breakfast," Liz said.

  "I'm for that," Angela said, "but should we take the sat phone? I thought Luke might be calling ... "

  "We can do that," Dani said, looking at her watch. "He might be in his office by now; we're an hour ahead of the East Coast, but he gets started early. I'll just call him and see what's new." She took the phone from its locker and struck a few keys.

  "Luke?" She listened for a few seconds. "Yes, we were hoping for some news of John." She paused again to listen. "Okay if I put you on the speaker? Liz and Angela are here."

  She pressed a button and put the phone on the cockpit table.

  "Luke?"

  "Yes. Good morning, ladies. I told Dani. I do have a bit of news, but I'm going to be following up on something shortly, so I was waiting to call in hopes that I'd know more. Since you called, though, here's what we've found so far.

  "John made his flight to Miami, but he didn't get on the connecting flight to Antigua. We guessed that, but we've managed to confirm it through the airline. I interviewed the crew that worked the arrival gate for the Atlanta flight he was on. One woman recognized John from the picture you sent, Dani. She was giving people information about connecting gates. She remembered him because he told her he was meeting his fiancée in Antigua, and she and her husband had just come back from down there. They chatted — just for a couple of seconds — but it was enough to set him apart in her memory.

  "Once she said that, it reminded one of the other agents that she had seen the two of them talking. She said that she saw John in a wheelchair pushed by two EMTs a few minutes later. None of the gate crew had any idea what happened to him. It was late last night when we interviewed them, so I wasn't having much luck tracking down the EMTs. That's on this morning's agenda, once everybody comes to work. Wish I had better news, but that's what we know. I'll call as soon as we've interviewed the EMTs who were working that evening."

  "Okay, Luke. Thanks for taking the time," Dani said.

  "Yes," Angela said, choking back a sob. "Thank you. Please find him."

  "We'll do our best. Sounds like he was in good hands, whatever was wrong with him. If it had been real serious, he would have been on a gurney, most likely. We just have to figure out where they took him. Keep the faith, Ms. Cappelletti. I've got to run. Talk to you all later."

  ****

  "Sol's damned quick, you know it?" Guido asked. He and Franco were in his study, looking over the report that Sol had emailed to Franco earlier that morning.

  "Yeah," Franco said, "he is. I'm not sure what we got here, though. Looks like the Berger woman runs that corporation that owns the boat, but Chirac's got a piece of it, too. I see the answer to Carmen's question."

  "What question?" Don Guido asked.

  "How two girls in their twenties managed to scrape together enough money to buy a million-dollar yacht."

  "You mean this investment bank her mother owns?"

  "Yeah. Well her mother's a partner in it. Looks like there's maybe four or five people got a piece of it," Franco said.

  "She's the Managing Director, though," Guido said. "Marie Stanwicke. How come the daughter's named Berger? She married?"

  Franco flipped through the pages he'd printed out. "No. Her mother remarried. Looks like she divorced Berger's father right after the kid was born. Interesting; he's French. Not much info available on him. 'Suspiciously little,' Sol says."

  "He probably don't matter; he's been out of the picture for a long time," Guido said. "Stanwicke remarried right after the divorce and had another kid, it says. Four years younger than Berger. Divorced that guy, too. Then he kicked off; some kinda automobile accident. This brother, Roland Stanwicke, he's listed as a partner in the bank. Wonder why Berger ain't got a piece of it?"

  "Says here she worked there for a few years, right out of college," Franco said. "She was gonna marry another guy who's got a piece of the bank — Jason Kimble — guess she left him and the bank at the same time. And his uncle's a partner, too. Shit, Guido, we ain't got nothin' on these fuckin' WASPS. These damn people are all intermarried, got their hands in one another's pockets."

  "Berger went off the grid for eighteen months after she quit the bank. Sol couldn't find shit on her until she bought the boat with Chirac," Guido said.

  "He ain't got much on Chirac, either," Franco added. "From Belgium. Same age as Berger. Got an undergrad degree in art and a master's in finance. Worked in the Department of Finance for the E.U. in Brussels. No known family; her father was a single parent and after he died, she took a leave of absence. Dropped out of sight until she and Berger bought the boat."

  "We gotta find out if Angela's on that friggin' boat, Franco. How the hell we gonna do that?"

  "Maybe Willy will spot them in Fajardo," Franco said.

  "Yeah, but that's a fuckin' needle in a haystack. Get some pictures of Angela out to that guy in Antigua. Louis? That his name?"

  "Yeah, but ... "

  "They scanned the Solanó broad's passport. Maybe they got the picture in their records. See if he can get a look. If not, get the passport number. I don't know how she did it, but that's almost gotta be Angela. We gotta find out if she got a fake passport; get some people sniffin' around here in Miami. If she got one, she just about had to do it around here. She ain't been anywhere else."

  "Okay, Don Guido. That makes me think, we got a pretty good 'in' with the customs and immigration people in San Juan, right?"

  "Yeah. You thinkin' we should get Willy to ask 'em to check out Solanó's passport? That's a hell of a good idea. Go for it."

  ****

  Franco walked into the apartment that he rented for Lola Gonzales to find her pacing the floor. She greeted him by saying, "I ain't heard from Juju since right after he got to São Paulo, Franco. He called me when he got off the plane. He say he was gonna run some erran' for you, an' then he was goin' to see my sister Rosa, but she called me when he don't show up like he say. You heard from him?"

  "You got a sister in São Paulo? You never said."

  "You never asked. Now what about Juju?" she whined.

  "Tell me about this sister first, Lola."

  "Why?" Lola frowned.

  "She mixed up in any rough stuff?"

  "What the fuck?" Lola's agitation showed. She stood, hands on her hips, bent forward at the waist, glaring at Franco. "Jus' tell me 'bout my baby. I worry 'bout Juju, maybe he get in some trouble. What kinda erran' he run for you?"

  "I don't know, Lola. What does your sister do?"

  "I don't answer no question until you answer me 'bout Juju," she shrie
ked. "You fuckin' gangsters and your macho shit, I'm — "

  His backhanded blow knocked her against the wall. Her eyes went wide with shock as she put her left hand to her throbbing cheek. She pushed off from the wall with her hips and swung a clawed right hand at Franco's eyes. He sidestepped the raking nails and drove his right fist into her belly, doubling her over.

  "Stupid bitch," he grunted as he jerked his right knee up, smashing it into her face. He caught her by the shoulders and pinned her to the wall, his left forearm across her chest. He grabbed her jaw in his right hand, forcing her to look at him. "Juju's already back, but you ain't gonna see him again. Fuckin' mama's boy; couldn't handle a man's job. And in case you're too stupid to figure it out, you're fired. You don't run my club no more. You ain't ever gonna run another club in the States, either. And ain't nobody gonna hire you to strip, even if they like old bags like you. I'll make sure of it. I don't need your shit. Now take this money and buy a one-way ticket to Brazil." He took a fat roll of hundred dollar bills from his pocket and tossed it at her. "You got until tomorrow to clear your shit outta this apartment. If I find you here after that, you gonna end up like Juju. You get that?"

  She moaned and nodded her head.

  Franco stepped back as he released his grip on her, and she slid to the floor. He kicked her once more and stormed out, slamming the door, wondering if he should have just killed her. By the time he got to the car, he calmed down enough to think. He was irritated with himself that he'd almost lost control. If she didn't leave, he could have one of the boys take care of her. Killing her himself wasn't smart; there were too many people who knew she was his mistress.

  ****

  Luke Pantene was frustrated. When he had agreed to look into the disappearance of John Welsh, he'd done it as a favor to Mario Espinosa. Luke had become much closer to Espinosa since he took Paul Russo's job after Paul retired.

  Mario Espinosa was a pillar of Miami's politically powerful Cuban-American community. Paul had told Luke about Mario's connections to various law enforcement and intelligence agencies. Luke knew about his business relationship with J.-P. Berger, Dani Berger's father, as well. At first, Luke had been overwhelmed by it all. Soon, though, he'd found himself charmed by Mario's charismatic personality.