by Moulton, CD
Things had been going far too well lately. Clint was used to the way his luck ran to extreme highs, then suddenly plunged to as extreme lows. He always felt a little trepidation when it was so good so long. He was anticipating the fall. The trouble with streaky luck meant that his high made for a really sharp drop.
Funny. Even the lows in Panamá weren’t that bad. He’d adopted the local concept of “Have a beer! It’ll get better in a day or so!” philosophy. So far, it had always gotten better.
Also so far, it managed to get worse in the same cyclic way.
Dumb mood! He put on shorts and a tank-top and flip-flops. Jimmy Buffet’s Margaritaville’s words came to him. “Old men in tank tops, cruising the gift shops...” Maybe he would check out the chiquitas down on the shore – except there wasn’t any shore in town to watch them.
He’d watch them walk by the park.
What a stupid mood! He walked into town greeting friends. Bobby, a gay neighbor, walked along with him for part of the distance. They discussed the group of tourists in town from Denmark. Mostly surfers. Judi Lum, his attractive nextdoor neighbor from Taiwan, was at the China (grocery store) and said she was going to Boquete on the David flight at 12:00 to see the flower fair. She’d stay in David for a couple of days and do her shopping for clothes and things for the house. They were about half the price in Bocas there in David.
Gisela was at Bongos setting up for the party at noon. A group from Japan were coming in and some of them had eaten at Bongos on former trips. The new Wary-Wary Restaurante with the fancy outside dining tables was doing well now, but Clint expected them to fail within two years. Too fancy. Too much overhead. Too many backpackers who couldn’t afford the prices.
He stopped at Chitres for lunch. It was excellent local food and was far less expensive than the hotel restaurants. Clint preferred the local fare. In the afternoon he went back to his house to swim off of his deck and laze around. Another perfect day in paradise. The sunset was a peaceful one with little color in the sky.
Dave, his weird author-musician friend, came by and said he was playing tonight with Curtis and Rob at Refugios. Want to come along?
“I think I’m going to just lay around and enjoy the lucky streak tonight,” Clint replied. “It’s been a long one for me!”
“Anticipating the fall? Getting in the good while it lasts?”
“Exactly!”
“Yo, Clint!” Travis called from the front door at five thirty in the morning. Clint was already up and having his first cup of coffee. He called for Travis to come on in.
“I came by to tell you that there were some really hoody types hanging around the Barco Hundido last night. They were speaking English. I didn’t let on that I speak it because of what they were saying. They’re from California and Chicago. They’re looking for a syndicate boss someone said they saw here.”
That would be Marko Bocinni, known here as Manny Mathews. Travis didn’t know about him or that he was here to get away from the mob life and to raise a family who wouldn’t be ashamed of how Pops made his.
“Why would I care?” Clint asked.
“Because they said he was seen with you in a fishing boat. The boat’s registered to Manny. There were several people in the boat, including Dave and Judi.”
“We’re out in his boat all the time. There are always a few visitors and people we knew from the states with us. I doubt any of them were the mob boss type, but you never know. Manny and Dave have some scary friends, though they seem to be pretty much decent when you get to know them.
“Thanks, Trav. I appreciate the warning. If it’s some stateside hoods they may get nasty before they know the facts about anything.”
They chatted for almost an hour. Clint wanted to contact Manny immediately, but that would make Travis suspicious. Travis finally said he had to get back to Almirante and left. Clint got right to the phone and called Manny. He didn’t say anything that could give anything away. They had a code they’d worked out from the first. Cell phones are easy to intercept. Almost as easy as land lines.
“The trip up the Rio Oeste with the gringos this morning,” Clint said after saying he was getting stuff together for the day. “You said to come to Cristóbal at nine?”
(“I’ll come over at nine. Trouble from the western US.”}
“Yo!”
“The river will have some logs and such after the storm the other day. I saw some coming out into the bay. I think they’re mostly balsa, but even that can be dangerous. We’ll have to be careful in the boat.”
(“They’re hoods. Someone saw us in the bay in your boat. Be armed and ready for anything.”)
“Yeah. I think it’s good that the wife and kid are in Boquete for the fair. I’d call it off if they were here. If it inconvenienced one or two of the people going, tough shit!”
“Okay. Be there at nine. Room for Dave?”
(“I’m bringing Dave.”)
“Always room for one more!”
They rang off. Clint called Dave. Dave knew the “Rio Oeste” code and said it might be fun. He wanted to check some of the Catasetums and Encyclias along the river.
Well, maybe the lucky streak was over!
They arrived at Manny’s Dolfin Bay dock at ten to nine. Clint was followed by a fast cigarette boat that dropped in behind him at the marina. He went around behind Isla San Cristóbal and Sheppard’s Island to lose the boat in the grass flats. He would seem to be heading directly to the mouth of Rio Oeste. As soon as the cigarette boat dropped back and headed around Sheppard’s Island he doubled back and around San Cristóbal on the far side. Manny had a dock there on Dolfin Bay as well as the one on the Bay of Almirante. Manny tossed a backpack into Clint’s boat and they headed out toward Dolfin Point. Dave had a small place there where they would be protected. Manny had contacted his wife with another code and warned her to stay in David among people for a few days. She had close friends in Las Tablas and said she might go there while she was on the Pacific side, anyway. They met Jose’ at Dolfin Point and chatted. They hinted that they wanted to get away from Bocas and all the crapola for a few days. This was the best place because no one would think of looking for them there. Jose’ wouldn’t tell anyone where they were.
Clint slipped his boat up to Dave’s dock under the thick mangroves and they moved into his cabin. A few of the native Indios came by – Indios are most of Dave’s closer friends – and he asked that they keep a lookout for anyone asking about them. He told them honestly that these were dangerous people and there might be quite a fight if they were found. At four o’clock Sergio called to say that Billy Andrews was dead. He’d been tortured.
“Who the hell is – or was – Billy Andrews?” Dave demanded.
“He was here two weeks ago for a couple of days. He came with some tourist people from California,” Sergio answered. “I do NOT like the looks of those people! They remind me of the thugs on TV!”
“That’s exactly what the hell they are. Keep a close eye on them. They seem to have a gripe with Clint, me and maybe Manny. We don’t know what it’s about, but we’re in a pretty good place to defend.”
“Serg, remember that Gibson character I had the disagreement with at The Casbah? I think he was a hood – as I said at the time – and we were seen with him by this Billy-Bob person. He reported that to the bunch there now. I figure that turkey was an important mob figure and no one was supposed to know he was here. Now they want to find him and think we know where he is or something as stupid. Those people are probably importing drugs into the states and the Gibson character ripped them off or something on that order. That makes it dangerous to anyone he was seen with.”
“Yes. That would fit what seems to be happening. They’re definitely looking for a big mob jefe. They asked a lot of the people at the Barco about some guy named Marko that you know. I’ve heard about that. They may think Gibson is Marko. That kind of thing.”
“Shit! Gibson doesn’t look ... except maybe at a distance. They’re t
he same size and build. They’re both Italian. I think maybe Billy-Bob saw us somewhere and came back with these cruds to identify us and maybe Gibson. He’s probably dead now because he couldn’t deliver. Maybe this bunch think they were set up by Billy to get knocked over by Marko.
“Crap! Marko doesn’t work that way and never did! He’s living in the Mediterranean on an island to get away from that kind of crap.”
“Well, keep a low profile until I can check them out. So far I can’t charge them with anything.”
They talked a minute, then rang off.
“Good story!” Dave said. “Wish I’d written it!”
Manny and Clint gave him the finger.
“There were several boats that were just looking around for something since maybe eleven o’clock or so,” Aurelio, one of their Indio friends, reported. We’ve parked some cayucas at the end of the dock to load cacao. No one can see that your boat is under the mangroves.”
“Muchas gracias, Aurelio. They’re dangerous people we don’t want around here,” Dave replied. “If they find us, don’t let anyone be around. There will be a fight with guns.”
Aurelio looked grim and nodded. They chatted about the cacao crop for a few minutes, then took Aurelio’s loaded cayuca away and immediately brought another to take its place. This one was to be loaded with yuka. The next one would be plantains. They would keep boats there all day. They used Dave’s dock all the time so it would seem normal.
Aaron brought some fish he’d caught just past noon. Dave likes to cook, so made a big meal for everyone there. Omar would bring lobster later. This is starvation fare in the Caribbean Panamá. No one can afford hamburger or beef, very little chicken – and lobster and fish are there for the taking. Dave fixed fried yuka and made a salad from native greens to go with the coal-baked fish. It was delicious.
They couldn’t be seen from the water, but had a good view out. Twice boats came by moving slowly, obviously searching for something. A helicopter also came over, but was heard and seen long before it got there. All they could see from it would be some Indios cooking something in coals. Manny was worried about being seen from the house lights at night. Dave said that was less than no problem. He drew some heavy drapes across the windows. They would sit on the deck with no lights for the most part.
The helicopter flew over about an hour after dark and running lights could be seen in the bay. The Indios don’t use running lights.
“I wonder what excuse they’ll use to come here?” Dave asked of no one.
About ten in the morning a man and woman came casually strolling from the interior part of the peninsula toward Dave’s house. From the land side the boat could be seen. Armando, a close friend, met them and chatted a minute. Dave had told him what to say when they asked if anyone was home. They acted like they were looking at the land for sale and had wandered onto Dave’s property by accident.
“Yes. Mr. Dave is here. He came very early from Miramar.”
“Oh? He came in the dark? Isn’t that rather dangerous?” the woman asked. “I know I would never attempt it! All those coral heads!”
“He does it many times. He knows the waters,” Armando said off-handedly.
“I believe Mr. Faraday and Mr. Matthews are here with him?” she asked. (“Oh? They wandered here accidentally and know who might be here?” Manny asked. Clint smirked.)
“No. They went to Miramar probably. That is the boat of Mr. Manny. Mr. Clint and Mr. Dave take him and his wife to Miramar when they wish to go to David or Panamá.”
“Faraday was with them?” the man demanded.
“How would I know? No one was with him when he came this morning.”
The woman gave the man a withering look and said they’d better get back now – but could they speak with Dave?
Armando shrugged and waved at the door, then said he had to pick cacao and left. They went to the porch and to the door to knock. Dave came to the door in his skivvies with his hair rumpled after a short wait. He asked what they wanted.
“We’re trying to locate Mr. Matthews and Mr. Faraday,” the woman answered. “We understand that they came here in Mr. Matthews’ boat last evening.”
“They went to Miramar. Who wants to know?” Dave replied shortly.
“Oh, we’re trying to locate them for some friends in California who lost touch a couple of months ago when their computer crashed and erased the e-mail addresses,” the man answered. “They were mostly old family friends and didn’t communicate more than three times a year so didn’t remember the addresses.”
“I don’t see how it would make any difference if the comp crashed!” Dave replied. “Hell! The damned addresses are kept by the server!”
“Er, they lost the list on the comp. They weren’t saved in the address book on the web,” the man answered.
“I suppose they’ll be back in a couple of days. They never stay too long,” Dave said. “They’ll go to Bocas. I’ll probably go back to Bocas this afternoon or tomorrow.”
“You won’t wait here until they get back?” the woman asked.
“Why in the hell would I do that? They’ll drive to Almirante. One of the reasons they went was to get the car back from the shop.”
“I see. Maybe we’ll still be here when they return to Bocas. Thank you.”
“Er, could I get some water?” the man asked. “I didn’t think we’d be this long or I’d of brought some with me.”
“I don’t have drinking water, but I have juice,” Dave replied. “Come on in. I have coffee, but it’s three days old. I can brew some. Damned good. We get it up at Enel Fortuna.”
They went inside where there was obviously no one else there – except maybe...?”
“May I use the bathroom?” the woman asked.
“Through the bedroom,” Dave said, pointing at the door. She went through. Dave saw her slip out and to the stairs to the deck, up and back down almost immediately to come back into the sala/kitchen. They soon left, then Clint and Manny came back in from the forest. They’d gone there as soon as the man and woman came to the door.
“Amazing! They come here by accident, know about Manny and me, are suddenly looking for us for some old friends in California! Didn’t ever introduce themselves! How very damned rude!” Clint exclaimed. “Know anything about them, Manny?”
“I will very shortly. I didn’t know you had friends in California that you communicate with three times a year!”
“Funny. Neither did I!”
Dave and Manny gave him the finger. Manny used Dave’s comp to contact people in the states. An hour later he knew that Benny Larson and Maddy Preston were the visitors. She had some class and he was a crud. They worked for a thug called Bernie Barstrovich.
“Clint? I’m getting scared!” Judi cried when she called that evening at eight thirty. “Some people are following me everywhere. I know because you told me how to spot them.”
“Stay with other people. Don’t go anywhere alone. If anyone asks, you think I went to David.” He gave her more instructions. Manny was listening and got a very grim look on his face. When Clint rang off he made a call. Clint didn’t want to know who it was to or what was said.
Nothing much happened until around ten o’clock when Clint got a call that Judi Lum was missing. He quickly called her cell number and got the voice of Maddy Preston, who said Judi was visiting.
“Put her on,” Clint said. “Why would you answer her phone?”
“I was just using it to make a couple of calls. Here she is.”
“Hi, Clint! How’s the David trip going? Any derumbes?” Judi asked. He could hear background sounds, so it was on speaker.
(“I’ve got a problem.”)
“Nothing particularly serious. We weren’t detained anywhere like a time or two before.”
(“Are you being held?”)
“When will you and Manny get back? You went to get his car. Is it fixed?”
(“They’re asking about Manny’s car.”)
“Y
eah. Maybe tonight or very early tomorrow morning. Just checking to see if everything’s normal there.”
(“Are you in danger?”)
“Well, as normal as ever. I have to meet with the garden group at the Lemon Grass in half an hour. I suppose they’ll be drinking a bit much.”
(“I’m not sure. I’ll check back in less than half an hour.”)
They said their goodbyes.
“Is she alright?” Dave demanded.
“She thinks so. They just wanted information about Manny’s car and when it would be on the road. I told them we would be traveling tonight into early morning. It will make it hard to identify the car in the dark.”
Judi called ten minutes later. She was on her way to the Lemon Grass. She’d played dumb and innocent for them. They seemed to fall for it.
They decided to get a bit of sleep and see what happened in the morning.
“... the Nissan Navaro. Both men in the car died. It fell more than forty meters onto rocks. This makes fourteen deaths to date this year in traffic accidents in Chiriqui.
“The weather seems to have caused several other serious automobile accidents. The conditions on the road at the altitude of La Fortuna will cause dense fog to collect over....”
Dave turned the TV off and raised an eyebrow at Clint and Manny. Manny looked like he could bite through twenty penny nails. Clint swore very colorfully. Manny made a contact on the computer asking that whoever was out there looking for his car to be identified – and who they worked for.
The three didn’t talk much. They drank a lot of coffee in the next thirty five minutes when the reply came: Andre Lacoste, French. Hans Krause, German. Both of them answered to Bernie Barstrovich, who answered to someone in the states. Who would be known in as short a time as possible.
“Send a message with them,” Manny ordered. “I won’t tolerate innocent people getting caught up in this kind of crap!” He dropped the connection and sighed deeply.
