Running Under Sail - a Connie Barrera Thriller (Connie Barrera Thrillers Book 5)

by Charles Dougherty

"I don' know. You 'member Maureen's cousin Maggie? From the wedding? She did the flowers."

  "Of course," Connie said, smiling.

  "Her nephew's half-sister works in customs in Roseau."

  "Okay," Paul said, "And?"

  "Maureen's cousin havin' lunch wit' she, at her desk in the customs office, an' she hear somebody in the nex' cubicle talkin' 'bout Diamantista II, sayin 'no, no record of Diamantista II bein' in our waters.'"

  Connie stifled a chuckle at the way Sharktooth lapsed into patois when he talked about the locals.

  "Okay, thanks," Paul said.

  "I thought you should know, mon. No big deal, but somebody lookin' for you. Somebody wit' some connections, it sound like. You mebbe comin' to see us?"

  "Maybe. We'll let you know. Thanks again, Sharktooth," Connie said.

  "Call me; Maureen will want to have you all to the house, for sure."

  Connie smiled again; Sharktooth was done with patois for now.

  "We will," Paul said. "Goodbye for now."

  "Who is he?" Sadie asked. "What kind of name is Sharktooth? Do you think Jonas Pratt is behind this?"

  "Probably," Paul said, "but that's guesswork."

  "Let me tell you about Sharktooth while Paul gets dinner ready," Connie said.

  ****

  "Okay, Thanks for making the call," Pratt said, as he disconnected from his call to Colombia.

  "Any luck, boss?" Freddy asked.

  "No. Diamantista II ain't in Dominica, but they been there a lotta times. Looks like it's one of their regular stops."

  "I think we oughta go there, boss. They ain't here."

  "We don't know that for sure. There's so damn many boats and so damn many places here that we coulda missed 'em."

  "There's them two islands out to the east," Freddy said. "We ain't looked there yet."

  "Yeah, that's true," Pratt said. "Not enough light to do it with the chopper, now. I guess we could give it a try tomorrow."

  "Sir?" Gerry Semmes interrupted.

  "Yeah, Gerry?"

  "There's another option, if you want to check Desirade and Marie Galante this evening."

  "What's that?"

  "We can take Morning Mist. The anchorages are all exposed, lee-side places. There won't be many boats, and there's nowhere really to hide a boat that size."

  "We ain't cleared in," Pratt said.

  "We fly the 'Q' flag; claim our right of innocent passage. We don't have to clear if we're not stopping and going ashore."

  "Think we'd spot 'em in the dark?"

  "They'll be showing an anchor light. There won't be many anchored boats, and we can sweep the anchorages with our spotlight. It's a normal thing to do, coming into an anchorage in the dark."

  "What if a patrol boat stops us?"

  "I'll tell 'em we're planning to clear at Desirade or Marie Galante in the morning. We'll anchor for a few minutes and then leave, like we changed our minds. If they challenge us, I'll just shrug my shoulders and bitch about rich yacht owners. Shit like that happens all the time."

  "You can do that?"

  "Yes, but the chances of anybody seeing us are nil. What do you think?"

  "Beats sittin' here, I reckon. What's your suggestion if we come up empty, Gerry?"

  "Dominica. I know you said the girl wouldn't like it, but see, a sailboat like that, they tend to go for day trips. If they were to skip from Deshaies to Martinique or St. Lucia, that's a long haul for them. Either place they were going, they'd probably stop in Prince Rupert Bay for a night, whether they stayed there longer or not."

  "All right. It's gotta be there or St. Lucia," Pratt said. "If we set foot in the French islands we're liable to start a damn turf war."

  "Who's got the rights, boss? Just curious," Freddy asked.

  "Unione Corse. Like the Mafia, only French."

  ****

  As they ate dinner in the cockpit, Paul said, "Okay; I've been making calls ever since you went through the mug shots and picked out Pratt and Thompson, and Louie Delgado. I'll summarize what's happening, if you'd like."

  "Please," Sadie said. "I'm sorry none of the others looked familiar to me."

  "That's okay. You only saw what you saw; it won't help anybody to have you guessing at who was there."

  "But was one of the shots the cartel boss?"

  "I expect so. Luke didn't tell me. We didn't want any speculation about your being coached."

  "Tell us what you've been up to, Paul," Connie said.

  "Okay. First thing, I've got bad news about Tom Connolly. He died without regaining consciousness."

  "Ooh," Sadie said, expelling a breath as if she'd been punched in the stomach.

  "Sorry to have to tell you that. I learned about it from a conversation with the Detective Constable in Antigua who's investigating the attack. He's a good man; Phillip and Sharktooth both spoke highly of him."

  "Phillip?" Sadie said.

  "Another friend with a lot of law enforcement contacts in this part of the world. We can fill you in on Phillip later. I'd like to get through the big picture quickly, because I think we need to be moving. I'll tell you why in a few minutes, okay?"

  "Okay," Sadie said.

  "I sent the Detective Constable mug shots of Freddy Thompson and Jonas Pratt. He's got a witness — the bartender at the restaurant in Jolly Harbour, who says a man was by there the day Tom Connolly was beaten up, asking about the two of you," Paul said. "My bet is the witness is going to identify Thompson as that man, and then they'll put out what amounts to an arrest warrant for him throughout the Eastern Caribbean."

  "Does that mean he's not still in Antigua?" Connie asked.

  "They're checking, but Morning Mist cleared out the day before yesterday, bound for Deshaies," Paul said. "Sandrine checked the French customs database, and they never cleared in. Not only that, but they never have cleared in at either Guadeloupe or Martinique. Ever."

  "Never?" Connie asked, raising her eyebrows.

  "Never — going back at least ten years."

  "Who's Sandrine?" Sadie asked.

  "Phillip's wife. She's the senior French customs officer in Martinique," Connie said.

  "Oh," Sadie nodded. "Does that mean they've gone back? Maybe to St. Barth?"

  Paul shrugged. "We don't know what it means. They could be flying under the radar, so to speak, staying offshore and out of sight."

  "The helicopter," Connie said.

  "Helicopter?" Paul asked.

  "Morning Mist was carrying a helicopter," Connie said.

  "Yeah, and they've got speedboats and a submarine, too," Sadie said.

  "A submarine? That's unusual." Paul said. "Okay. I'll pass that along."

  "Why only a warrant for Freddy?" Sadie asked.

  Paul shook his head. "I don't understand your question."

  "It just hit me. Sorry to be slow, but you said there was a warrant of some kind for Freddy. Why not for Jonas?"

  "Oh. Fair question. Because Jonas Pratt was on Morning Mist when it arrived. That was the day after Tom was attacked. Freddy Thompson came in on a private jet the day of the attack. His arrival fits in with the time the unknown guy was questioning the bartender, but Pratt wasn't there yet."

  "Oh. I see," Sadie said.

  "That's really about it, for now," Paul said. "Luke's working through the task force to see if they can find Morning Mist, but he wasn't optimistic."

  "What about satellite surveillance?" Connie asked.

  Paul shook his head. "Too much competition for scarce resources. He's asking, but he's not hopeful. Any other questions?"

  "You said something about getting underway," Connie said.

  "Yes. Phillip and I both think we should leave now and take the windward route direct to Ste. Anne."

  "Where?" Sadie asked.

  "Ste. Anne, Martinique," Connie said. "That's where Phillip and Sandrine live."

  "What's the windward route?"

  "That means to the east of the islands, out in the Atlantic. There's solid
trade wind with no land to interfere, and pleasure boats almost never take that route. If we left now, we'd probably be south of Dominica by a little after daylight," Paul said. "What do you think, Sadie?"

  "I'll take your advice, but why Martinique?"

  "A couple of reasons," Paul said. "There are people there to help us, for one, and for another, Morning Mist seems to avoid Martinique and Guadeloupe. Sandrine checked. She's been nearly everywhere else in the Eastern Caribbean but never to those two islands."

  "Besides, Martinique is a wonderful place," Connie said. "Ste. Anne's one of our favorite spots. We even chose it for our wedding."

  "Let's go, then." Sadie said. "You can tell me about Phillip and Sandrine on the way."

  Chapter 16

  "You know, Mr. Pratt," Gerry Semmes said, "I just realized there are a couple of other places over on the eastern part of Guadeloupe that might be worth a look."

  "Why didn't you say so earlier?"

  "Because of what you said about the girl not wanting to get off the beaten path, you know. Then when we decided to go to Marie Galante, I looked at the charts and thought that since we're over this far to the east, we might as well be thorough."

  "Shit, yeah, we should," Pratt muttered.

  They were standing on Morning Mist's bridge in the dim light from the electronics as Semmes conned the big vessel through the dark water en route to Marie Galante and Desiderade.

  "Where are you talkin' about, anyhow?" Pratt asked.

  "Well, there's Îlets de Petite Terre, which is a national park. It sits kind of between Desirade and Marie Galante. Two tiny islands there — pretty low and flat; I'd rather wait until dawn to approach them, anyway. There's a lot of shallow water around them. Getting in close enough to see an anchor light might be risky in the dark, with no moon."

  "Okay," Pratt said. "Where else?"

  "There are three places on the mainland of Guadeloupe. We can go on to Marie Galante now. It's no problem to scout the anchorages there in the dark. Then we'll run up to Desirade and check it out. By the time we get back down in the neighborhood of Îlets de Petite Terre, it should be close enough to dawn to let us see a little better. From there, we'll probably be better off standing out to sea and taking the picnic boat in to the coast."

  "Why's that?"

  "The places along the coast are populated, and people would notice Morning Mist that close inshore. We could attract some attention, but the picnic boat won't raise any eyebrows, and besides, it's cleared in, so we'll be legal in it."

  "Okay. You said three places?"

  "Yes, sir. St. François, Ste. Anne, and Petite Hâvre. We'd do better with the picnic boat in the first two, anyhow. They're pretty tight - lots of reefs, and there are towns, too. Low profile's better. Petite Hâvre's a nice anchorage for the beach, and the protection's decent. Cruising boats go there; not so many charters, but since we're close by, it's worth a look."

  "Yeah, okay. We can do this and still get to Dominica by dark?"

  "Yes, sir. We can be in well before dark, if you want."

  "Not really. I'm thinkin' we might want to hang out there for a day or two, give 'em a chance to catch up with us. We'll have to clear customs if we stay there, right?"

  "Yes, sir. We're going to need outbound clearance from Guadeloupe for the picnic boat, too."

  "Shit. I forgot about that."

  "Not a big deal. I can handle that at the Saintes, either before or after we take Morning Mist to Dominica. Or we can head for the Saintes this afternoon. Morning Mist can lay out to sea a few miles and I'll take the picnic boat in to get clearance. Do you want to clear Morning Mist into Dominica?"

  "Let me think about it; I'll make a phone call or two. I might be able to do a little business while we're there."

  "Yes, sir. Either way, it won't be a problem. There's plenty of room in Prince Rupert Bay."

  ****

  "You know, being out of sight of land on a dark night is really special," Sadie said. She had both hands on the helm, steering, sharing Connie's watch. Paul was below catching up on his sleep.

  "People either love it or hate it," Connie said.

  "What's there to hate about it?"

  "Some people find it disorienting, spooky even."

  "I get the disorienting part," Sadie said. "You just look out into the blackness and it goes on forever. All I can really see to orient myself is an occasional glimpse of the edge of the boat."

  "Rail," Connie said, smiling.

  "Rail?"

  "The edge of the boat is called the rail, or the gunwale."

  "Oh. Okay. I'll get it. Keep telling me these things; I'm going to figure this all out."

  "You're doing well; you've got a nice touch on the helm. You're not over-steering at all. Most people take a lot longer to get the hang of it."

  "It's what you told me about feeling the pressure of the rudder through the helm; I've got this picture in my mind. Keeping the pressure the same, and feeling the boat's movements. It's like dancing with it. That was a great description. It's nothing like driving a car, is it?"

  Connie laughed.

  "Did I say something wrong?"

  "No, not at all. You mentioned driving a car, and I realized I haven't been behind the wheel of one in several years."

  "Miss it?"

  "No. No, it's a great sense of freedom, not to have a car, or a house, or any of those worries that go with them. Everything I care about is within arm's reach here. I can't imagine living any other way."

  "So you and Paul don't have a house, or any kind of place ashore?"

  "No. I had a condo years ago in Savannah, but I sold it when I decided to spend a couple of years in the Bahamas, and then I bought the first boat."

  "What about Paul?"

  "He had a condo in Miami, but he sold it when we decided to get married and buy this boat together."

  "I never thought about being able to live on a boat. Not sure it's for me, even though I like this sailing stuff."

  "Do you have a place in Miami?" Connie asked.

  "No. I was crashing in a scuzzy apartment with several other girls from the club, before ... Jonas. We split the rent; it was a weekly rental. Yucky."

  "Think you'll stay in Florida?" Connie asked. "I mean, once this is over."

  "Maybe so. I can't see past this being over; I'm scared to think about it, you know?"

  "I can understand that, but you know Pratt's days have to be numbered with the information you provided on that meeting in St. Barth."

  "Yeah. I'm kinda nervous about that."

  "What part of it?"

  "The idea of testifying against him. I've heard stories from some of the other girls."

  "What kind of stories?"

  "About witnesses that were going to testify against Jonas and his bunch. They always chicken out. There are some videos, from what one of the girls said. She'd seen one of them."

  "Videos?"

  "Yeah. Of Freddy, or somebody — she said you couldn't really see the men's faces, but she thought one was Freddy. Anyway, it was shot by these people who produce porn videos. You know, professional quality. But these showed what happened to a couple of people who wouldn't change their minds about testifying against Jonas. They were pretty gruesome; they used the videos to keep people in line, kinda."

  "That's scary," Connie said. "Paul and Luke will keep you safe, I'm sure."

  "I know they mean to, and I'm gonna do whatever needs to be done. But I know there aren't any guarantees; I've sure learned that in the last couple of years."

  ****

  "Don't gimme no shit, Delgado. You been on my payroll for years; you got no place bitchin' about what time of day I call you. Besides, this is your ass I'm tryin' to save." Pratt listened to the slight hiss from the encrypted satellite phone that he held to his ear. He thought the connection might have failed, but then he heard Louie Delgado clear his throat.

  "The hell are you talkin' about, saving my ass?" Delgado asked.

  "She
can put you at the meetin' in St. Barth, shithead."

  "She who?"

  "Freddy didn't tell you?"

  "He just asked me about Russo. What the hell are you talkin' about now?"

  "That little piece you been wantin' so bad."

  "Sadie Storm? What about her?"

  "She done skipped out."

  "Skipped out? I thought she was still stayin' at your place on Brickell Key."

  "We had a little disagreement about her wantin' to get her own place."

  "I'm sure you straightened that out, Pratt." Delgado laughed, a harsh sound. "You didn't ruin it for me, did you? Can she still walk?"

  "Yeah. No permanent damage; just a few bruises. Freddy had to help her get to the recording studio the next day, but then she gave him the slip. That dyke agent of hers set her up on Russo's boat. That's why Freddy called you about Russo the other day."

  "Paul Russo? She's on his boat?" Delgado laughed again. "He's about to get his ass fried."

  "What d'ya mean by that?"

  "I told you I.A. was sniffin' around, lookin' for who's on the pad, remember?"

  "Yeah. I gave you half a mil to sort that out, didn't I?"

  "That's right. I've put it to good use."

  "But Freddy said you told him Russo was clean."

  "Yeah, the dumbshit. He shoulda taken the money. He's gonna go down for it anyway."

  "How's that?"

  "We're settin' him up; phony bank accounts, all kinda shit. That's where the half-mil is, sitting in some accounts in his name. Sumbitch is gonna take the fall for running the pad for years. We been feedin' his ex stuff, too. To make it more convincin', see. They hang it on a retired cop; take his pension away. Then it's back to business as usual. We got some guys in I.A. on our side; nothin' to worry about."

  "What about the money?"

  "Don't worry. I got that under control. Once I.A. finds it, it's gonna disappear. They'll think Russo moved it, but it'll be back in the working account, with no tracks. I got a hacker can do stuff you wouldn't believe."

  "Yeah. Well, that ain't gonna work for shit if the DA puts little Miss Sadie on the stand and she tells 'em about what went down in St. Barth."

  "So take care of her, Pratt. Jesus, man what's the matter with you?"

  "I gotta find her, asshole. She's on that damn boat of Russo's, somewhere."