Bluewater Revolution: The Twelfth Novel in the Bluewater Thriller Series - Mystery and Adventure in Florida, Cuba, and the Caribbean (Bluewater Thrillers Book 12)

by Charles Dougherty

  Pulling out the other chair, Maldonado sat. "Did you check out the room?"

  "Yeah," Martínez said, pointing at the cellphone-sized electronic device on the table. "The room's clean; we can talk. What's wrong?"

  "Why do you think something's wrong?"

  "You call me and demand a meeting in the middle of the morning when I'm waiting to hear about what Davis told Olsen? There had better be something wrong, Willy."

  "Calm down, José."

  "Don't tell me to calm down. What the hell do you want?"

  "Did you catch the news about Lupita?"

  "News? What news?"

  "She made the local news this morning. Somebody beat her up pretty badly."

  Martínez studied Maldonado for several seconds. "Well, what's going on? Tell me the rest."

  "We don't know who did it or why. She said it was a woman with a blackjack who spoke Cuban Spanish."

  "Did the woman say anything?"

  "Nothing of importance. She just cursed Lupita and worked her over. She had to be a pro."

  "Yeah, to take Lupita down, I would say she was a pro. Have you talked to Cruz about this?"

  "Yeah," Maldonado said. "He's got no idea."

  "You believe that?"

  "I've got no reason not to, José."

  "Even with the Haitian business?"

  "You mean the undocumented Haitians Cruz and Santos are bringing in?"

  "Yeah," Martínez said. "I've never liked that."

  "It's one more problem for the Americans to deal with," Maldonado said. "Besides, it's given us a good place to hide the troops for the invasion."

  Martínez shook his head. "Yeah, that's true. I just don't like all the other stuff he's into."

  "He's self-sufficient, José. He and Santos can provide Haitians for whatever you want: sex, domestic help, construction labor, hotel maids, highjacking trucks, smuggling drugs, you name it. It's not all bad; it's made this operation possible. If we had tried to hide the mercenaries in the Everglades, somebody could have spotted them. We couldn't have used one of the exile camps. We talked about that; we didn't want the exiles involved. They can't be trusted. Cruz's rentals are a much safer place to put them."

  "How can you say that? The risk if he gets busted for any of the things he's into ... it could expose those guys ... " Martínez shook his head.

  "How is he going to get caught?"

  "The troops aren't Haitian, for one thing," Martínez said. "They don't fit the neighborhood."

  "They're from the D.R.," Maldonado said. "Who's going to know the difference?"

  "The Haitians. That's who."

  "Santos keeps them in line."

  "And that's another thing. Santos isn't one of us, either."

  "You mean because he's from the D.R., too?"

  "Yes. This whole setup depends on Cruz and Santos, and they've got all kinds of vulnerabilities. If they go down ... "

  "Hey, that's not our problem, José. Cruz is one of those successful, Cuban-American entrepreneurs -- the kind the exiles brag about. We've got what the Americans call plausible deniability. There's no DGI connection -- not one anybody can prove, anyway. Not before we could silence him, if he went down."

  "You make a good point," Martínez said. "Maybe we should rethink how this 'American-sponsored' terrorist invasion is going to be exposed. We could take him down with it. He'd make a much better scapegoat than Ortiz."

  "Yeah, that's true. Ortiz is a small fish at best; Cruz would make a much bigger splash. You think about that, José. My hands are full right now with the setup. At least Ortiz is making some progress getting into Berger's entourage."

  "He is?" Martínez asked.

  "Yes. He's having lunch there this afternoon. The girl is falling for him, it seems."

  "Good. Too bad Lupita's not able to get audio and video," Martínez said.

  "All is not lost, there," Maldonado said. "If he takes the girl back to his place, it's wired. Lupita took care of that."

  "Okay. At least she got that much done. I do wonder who took her out, though. And why."

  "Yeah, me too. But that reminds me, José. She knows about you."

  "What?" Martínez raised his voice. "How? What does she know?"

  "I don't know, but she mentioned your name to Ortiz. He brought it up when Cruz was questioning him about Lupita."

  "That is not good," Martínez said. "How could she have learned about me?"

  "Was she around when you were meeting with Cruz?"

  "Never. I never met with him. Not in person. Only on burner phones."

  "Maybe she overheard."

  "That would have been careless on his part," Martínez said. "What did Ortiz say?"

  "Cruz asked him if Lupita had mentioned any new men in her life, or something like that. He said the only name he'd heard was Martínez."

  "Shit. What did Cruz say?"

  "He played dumb. He told Ortiz he couldn't think of anybody with that name and asked if she'd said anymore about him, but Ortiz said no."

  "Where is Lupita, anyway?"

  "Mount Sinai."

  "Is she conscious?" Martínez asked.

  "Yeah, but Cruz says she's drugged out of her mind. Pain medication."

  "The cops involved?"

  "Yeah," Maldonado said. "Cruz said they were there right from the start. Building security called them right after it happened."

  "Did she tell them anything?"

  "Cruz said Santos had one of the cops on his payroll checking. So far, all they know is what I told you about the Cuban woman. You worried she'll talk?"

  "It would be better if she didn't," Martínez said. "Who knows what she might say if she's all doped up?"

  "You want me to send somebody to talk with her?"

  Martínez thought for a moment and then shook his head. "I'll take care of it."

  ****

  "Well, what do you think?" Liz asked, after Dani left to walk Ortiz back to his car. She and the others lingered over the remains of lunch.

  "He's handsome, all right," Connie said. "And he seems nice. I mean, not like he thinks he's God's gift to women, or anything. Just a regular guy."

  "Did I catch that he's in the real estate business?" Paul asked.

  "That's right," Liz said. "I didn't hear that come up, though." She gave Paul a curious look.

  "You mentioned it the other day, I think," Connie said. "Maybe I passed that along to you, Paul."

  "Yes, I think you did. Any idea what he does, exactly?" Paul asked.

  "I picked up from the bartender at the yacht club that he's a sales agent for some brokerage firm." Liz said. "He entertains people at the club using a business membership, but the broker's name escapes me."

  Paul shook his head. "It wouldn't mean anything to me anyway, unless he was a crook of some kind. I don't know much about Miami real estate."

  "There was one thing that seemed a little odd," Phillip said.

  Everyone turned to look at him.

  "Well?" Connie prompted. "Tell us."

  "When I went down to Vengeance to tell them lunch was almost ready, Dani introduced him to me. We were making small talk, and he mentioned that she'd told him I was from Martinique. I expanded on that a little, and then asked about his family ties there. Dani had told us about that, remember?"

  "Right," Liz said.

  "When he answered," Phillip said, "Dani tried to clarify something about his folks coming from Cuba, and he sort of cut her off."

  "He cut her off? That explains why she seemed irritated when we first sat down," Liz said. "I noticed she was tense about something. What happened?"

  "He said his mother was from Martinique, or actually, that her folks were. She and his father were living in Cuba before Castro and they went back to Martinique after the Revolution."

  "But wait," Liz interjected. Phillip nodded at her, and she continued. "Dani said his parents came to the States on a raft while his mother was pregnant with him. That had to be long after the Revolution. Something's w
rong with the timing there."

  "That's what she was trying to get at," Phillip said. "She mentioned that, specifically, and he put her off. He was wanting to talk about my military career instead, and she tried a couple of times to get him to address the other."

  "Really?" Liz asked. "Now why would he cut Dani off to talk about your military service?"

  "I don't know," Phillip said. "I'm sure he's getting an earful about it by now, though." He grinned and shook his head. "She was not happy, and we all know how that plays out. But he does seem like a nice young man."

  "Excuse me," Liz said, as she took her cellphone out of her pocket. "It's Dani," she said, as she accepted the call. She stepped away and spoke quietly for a few seconds, shrugged, and returned the phone to the pocket of her shorts.

  Sitting back down at the table, she said, "Nothing exciting. She wanted to let me know they're going over to South Beach for a little while, and that she'd call me if she wasn't going to be back in time for dinner."

  "I guess they must have smoothed things over," Connie said.

  "I couldn't tell," Liz said, "but I did notice she was acting a bit annoyed during lunch. She's been like a giddy teenager about him ever since she met him, but I think the old Dani's back with us."

  "That's good; I like the old Dani better," Connie said, with a grin.

  "I've got an appointment to keep," Phillip said. "There's a car coming for me in a few minutes. I'd better get moving. Great lunch, you two. See you all later." He turned as he went into the house, giving them an abbreviated wave.

  "An appointment," Liz said. "I wonder what he's up to?"

  ****

  Phillip was standing under the portico in front of the villa when the car pulled in. He recognized the Mercedes sedan from the earlier rendezvous with Martínez. As he committed the license plate number to memory, he registered that it was different from the previous one he'd given to Olsen. When the car stopped, he walked around the front and rested his left forearm on the driver's side windshield. Leaning toward the driver's window as it lowered, he used the phone in his left hand to snap a photo of the vehicle identification number.

  "Can you give me a second?" he asked the man behind the wheel. "I'll be right back." He darted back inside before the man could answer. He returned in less than thirty seconds, and the second man opened the back door on the driver's side and held it while he got in.

  "Good afternoon, Señor Davis," Martínez said.

  Phillip said, "Sorry to keep you waiting, but I realized as you pulled up that I hadn't told the others I was leaving."

  "No problem, señor," Martínez said, as the man who had held the door for Phillip got in behind Martínez. "I thought we would ride and talk, this time, instead of taking you to the safe house. It is best to avoid patterns, yes?"

  "Yes, I agree, José."

  "And how is General Olsen today, señor?"

  "He's well. He sends his regards, but he hasn't received an answer yet."

  "I understand, señor. These things take time, I know. I have some progress on my side; I hope that perhaps it may smooth the way."

  "Okay," Phillip said. "What's changed?"

  "I discussed your concerns about the source of the weapons with my principals, señor. It seems I was mistaken about their preference for U.S.-manufactured weapons. They pointed out to me that ammunition for Eastern-Bloc weapons will be more readily available where we are going, so it simplifies the logistics."

  "I wondered about that," Phillip said.

  "You should have mentioned it, señor. I'm disappointed in myself that I didn't think of it. I was simply thinking that our fighters were accustomed to U.S.-issued equipment."

  "It's not a big problem, José. If they've seen combat in the Middle East, they probably know the Eastern-Bloc arms as well as our own. But in any case, we can provide training for a cadre, if your principals wish. Aside from the expense and the political issues, we have a much bigger inventory of Eastern-Bloc weapons, so we can deliver more quickly."

  "That is good to know, señor. I understand that General Olsen is waiting for an answer from your government, so this is perhaps too early, but I wanted to let you know that we would be prepared to receive a sample order as soon as two days from now."

  "At the Shark River Entrance?"

  "We think it would be less likely to be noticed if you can deliver inside Whitewater Bay."

  "We can do that. It will be easier to handle the transfer in protected water."

  "Yes," Martínez said. "And for a platoon-sized shipment, we would pay cash, so we could expedite the sample shipment."

  "I'm not sure that will be acceptable, José. Moving cash is more risky than moving the weapons, with all the government focus on money laundering. It would be safer for both sides to arrange an electronic transfer from one offshore account to another."

  "I see. Well, I'm sure we can work that out."

  "I'll ask, if you wish, but I'm afraid I know what the answer will be," Phillip said.

  "No, señor. We'll pay as you wish. I only thought it might be more profitable the other way."

  "I'm sure my people appreciate your flexibility," Phillip said. "What else can we cover now?"

  "I think this is all for now, Señor Davis. As always, it has been a pleasure. My friends will take you back to the villa now, yes?"

  "Good afternoon, José."

  "Good afternoon, my friend," Martínez said, as he got out of the car.

  ****

  Chapter 15

  "You're all still here," Phillip remarked, pulling out the chair he had occupied at lunch.

  "We were just lingering over the wine," Liz said. "You weren't gone very long."

  "No; I had my meeting in a car this time. Did you get the text I sent you, Paul?"

  "Sure. You'd just gotten up from the table when I got it."

  "Have you run it by Luke?" Phillip asked. Luke Pantene was Paul's old partner and had taken his place as the head of the Miami PD's homicide department when Paul retired a few years ago.

  "Yes. We got lucky; he was in the office, so he tracked down the vehicle i.d. number right away. Needless to say, it didn't match the plates."

  "Stolen?" Phillip asked.

  "Right the first time. The VIN says the car's registered to Manuel Cruz Realty Enterprises, LLC. The plate didn't match, so Luke didn't give me anything on it."

  "What's going on," Connie asked. "I saw you messing with your phone, but I thought you were playing solitaire, like Liz and I were boring you or something."

  "Never," Paul said, smiling at her. "Now you know."

  "No, now I'm even more curious. What are you and Phillip up to?"

  "I'll defer to Phillip on that one," Paul said. "It's not mine to talk about."

  Phillip took a deep breath and looked at the others, pausing with each until he made solid eye contact. "I'll tell you what I know so far; I'm likely to need your help before this is over. Liz, you can tell Dani, but remind her not to say anything to Ortiz. He's not one of us."

  "What about J.-P. and Anne?" Liz asked.

  "J.-P.'s in the loop; I don't know whether he's filled Anne in or not, but that's up to him."

  "Okay," Liz said. "What's the big secret?"

  "I've been approached by a guy I used to run into from time to time, back when I was still working. He's a mercenary, as best we know. He claims to represent a consortium of Cuban exile groups who're planning yet another attempt to overthrow the Castro government. They're looking for weapons."

  "Weapons where?" Paul asked. "Here?"

  "Yes. Delivered to one of their training camps in the Everglades."

  "Isn't that illegal?" Connie asked.

  Phillip shrugged. "It depends. We're -- "

  "Who's we?" Paul asked.

  "J.-P. and I," Phillip said. "Neither of us is willing to do this without the U.S. government's blessing. We wouldn't ever have, but this time it's even stickier than usual."

  "Because of the change in our diplomatic
relations with Cuba?" Connie asked.

  "That, and because of the domestic delivery. Let me give you a quick overview of what's happened so far."

  Everyone listened as Phillip summarized events since his first contact with Martínez. "Any questions?" he asked.

  "I take it that your government contact, this Rick Olsen, doesn't have the go ahead yet," Paul said.

  "That's right. It's obviously sensitive, and nobody knows whether this Martínez is to be trusted," Phillip said.

  "How will they determine that?" Connie asked.

  "I don't know," Phillip said. "They asked for my opinion, but I couldn't help them. I've run across Martínez a number of times, but I never dealt with him on anything. Olsen's trying to arrange a tail, but I haven't heard anything on it yet."

  "You said you'd need our help," Liz said. "Doing what?"

  "For one thing, keeping an eye out for Martínez. He's come into the compound at least a couple of times, posing as a gardener. He's the only gardener I've seen here, so you can pick him out. We don't know where he's hanging out when he's not here. I was carrying a tracker today, thinking we'd find that house he took me to last time, but we just rode around the block."

  "You couldn't have planted it in the car?" Liz asked.

  Phillip smiled. "I didn't want to take a chance that they'd find it later. They could have played us, then. They're pretty sophisticated. Don't forget, they've got somebody inside whatever agency it is that's running Olsen."

  "You don't even know what agency you're working for?" Connie asked.

  "No. I never did. That's the way it works."

  "That's nuts," Paul said. "How do you know you can trust them?"

  "I don't. I've worked with Olsen before; I trust him personally. That's why they brought him in, I'm sure. He was retired, like I was."

  "But whose payroll were you on before you retired? CIA?" Paul asked.

  "The Army's," Phillip said, fixing Paul with a steady look.

  "You trust him personally," Liz said. "What does that mean, exactly?"

  "I know he won't get me in trouble if he can help it," Phillip said.