Liz held the chopper steady as a figure appeared on the back deck and trained binoculars at the fast-approaching chopper. The red handkerchief knotted around his neck gave a good clue as to his identity.
"That looks like Emilio."
"St," Jorge confirmed in a low growl. "That is my wife's cousin. Hibrido!"
A second figure popped out of the cabin. This one clutched a high-powered rifle. Emilio dropped the binoculars and stabbed a finger at the chopper. His cohort brought the rifle up to his shoulder. So much for a peaceful surrender!
"Hang on!" Liz shouted.
Gripping the collective, she prepared to take evasive action. Before she could jerk the controls, a third individual burst onto the deck. Streaming long white hair, she leaped forward and swung an odd shaped bat.
"That's Maggie!" Devlin strained against his harness. "Jesus! What's she armed with?"
Whatever it was, it caught the shooter up alongside his head. Stunned, the man staggered against the ship's rail. Maggie swung again and sent him careening over the side. His rifle went overboard with him.
She then turned her attention to Emilio, who dived for one of the long-handled gaffers lashed to the rail. With its sharp hook, it made for a lethal weapon.
Maggie fended off his attack with her own weapon while Liz swooped in as close as she dared. The skids were less than a foot off the water when Devlin dived in. Jorge splashed in after him.
Mindful of those rocking booms, Liz had no choice but to back off. Her heart jammed in the middle of her throat, she watched Maggie go down on the slippery deck. She scuttled backward, dodging a vicious swipe of the gaff and scissors kicking wildly to untangle the heavy skirts wrapped around her legs.
Liz didn't stop to think. Helicopters flew every which way but loose. Sideways. Backward. With the right pilot at the controls, they could do a pirouette while maintaining forward momentum. They could even turn on their sides and put out a rotor wash powerful enough to knock a full-grown man off his feet.
Which is exactly what it did.
Flying horizontal with the surface of the sea, Liz caught only a glimpse of Emilio as he hurtled across the deck and slammed into the cabin bulkhead.
Liz trailed the Santa Guadalupe back to Piedras Rojas' tiny harbor. She made a low pass, saw Adam standing on the dock and waved to him before zooming in for a landing at the Aero Baja terminal. Once there, she jumped in her Jeep and tore back through town to the harbor.
They were all still aboard the tuna boat, waiting for the Mexican authorities to arrive and take the suspects into custody. Maggie had shed her wig.
Paulo Casimiro was white around the gills, shaken from his near brush with death. Jorge nursed bruised and skinned knuckles, which no doubt accounted for the bloody pulp that used to be his cousin-in-law's nose. Devlin and Adam were conducting similarly physical and very intense conversations with two unidentified males. Sullen and restrained by plastic cuffs at wrists and ankles, the two pointed a figurative finger at Emilio.
"Not that we need their cooperation," Maggie said, combing her fingers through her honey-brown hair. "Emilio admitted he was paid to lure Paulo onto his boat, conk him over the head and steal his papers. The bastard bragged about it, in fact, after he had us trussed up like sardines."
"How did you get loose?"
"An old trick Adam taught me when we were both at OMEGA." Throwing her husband a fond glance, she lifted her skirt and waggled a laced-up granny shoe. "Always tuck a straight edged blade into your sole when you're going into the field."
"I'll remember that."
"Doesn't hurt to have a stuffed mackerel on hand, either." Grinning, Maggie pointed at the object wedged in the corner of the deck. "Emilio had it mounted on the wall inside the cabin. The thing packs quite a wallop."
"A fish? You knocked a couple of thugs on their asses with a fish?"
"Nothing special about that." Her brown eyes sparkled with laughter. "You did the same to Emilio with a whoosh of air."
"Speaking of thugs..." Liz swiveled around to get a better look at the two men hunched beside the tuna boat captain. She didn't recognize either of them. "Do they all work for El Tiburon?"
"Evidently not. Emilio bragged about that, too. Said The Shark wanted nothing to do with the scheme, that it was too risky and would bring police from every country converging on this area. So his nephew, Martin, ran it without his uncle's knowledge. Emilio was one of his captains. Only, they had a slight falling out, which ended with a bullet between Martin Alvarez's eyes."
Liz let out a low whistle. Emilio had stepped in some serious doo-doo. Not only would he have the police coming down on him, he'd have to answer for flouting El Tiburon's authority in his own territory.
She knew which one she 'd worry most about.
Ten
"We're still missing a key piece of the puzzle."
Devlin deposited his plate on the sturdy trunk Liz used as a coffee table. The remains of their microwave pizza littered the surface.
It was late, well past midnight, but a wide awake Liz sat cross-legged beside him on the sofa. Still pumped from the wild chase this morning, she'd waited here at her apartment while Devlin and a small, select group of law enforcement officials conducted marathon sessions with Emilio and his cohorts.
The interrogations would continue for some days, but the rest of the OMEGA team had dispersed. Maggie and Adam had left for home. Claire and her new husband had resumed their honeymoon. Devlin would remain in the area a while longer. Although the Mexican authorities had promised to keep his ties to the U.S. Government quiet, he knew the information was bound to leak. Probably already had. He figured he'd blown his cover, but didn't intend to leave until he'd fitted all the pieces together.
"Emilio swears his only contact was Martin Alvarez," he told Liz, reiterating what Maggie had told her on the boat. "Alvarez supplied the names and photos of the targets and told Emilio when they were scheduled to rotate off the rig. He also picked up the papers after Emilio had...had disposed of the bodies."
The words sliced at Devlin's throat like broken glass. He had no doubt now Harry Johnson was dead. Emilio claimed he didn't know Harry, had nothing to do with his disappearance. He probably hadn't, as Devlin's friend had rotated off another rig farther south. Yet Emilio admitted Martin's instructions were explicit. Snatch the target. Take the papers. Weight the body with lead weights and feed it to the fish. He also admitted Martin did business with other boat captains along the coast.
Anxious to cut a deal, Emilio had supplied names of the captains he knew or suspected were part of the scheme. The Mexican authorities were rounding them up and bringing them in for questioning. Devlin planned to be present at the interrogations but he suspected they'd sing the same refrain Emilio had. Their only contact was Martin Alvarez.
"So why did Emilio go after Paulo?" Liz wanted to know. "With Martin dead, he wouldn't get paid for stealing the papers."
"He and Alvarez had set up the snatch before they got crosswise of each other. Emilio went ahead with it, figuring he wouldn't have any trouble coming up with another buyer. He was also hoping Martin's inside man—his source for information about the crew members rotating off the rig—would contact him directly when he learned of the snatch. Turns out Emilio planned to take over operations from Martin. That's why he lifted the shark's tooth off the body, by the way."
"He needed an authority symbol? Something to show he was now in charge?"
"Exactly. He had to be careful where and when he flashed it, though. Martin had warned him his uncle wanted no part of the scheme."
"Emilio-baby took one hell of a chance there." Liz's face screwed into a grimace. "Speaking from personal experience, I can tell you El Tiburon has access to all kinds of information. He would have latched on to Emilio sooner or later."
"We're lucky it was later." A tight knot of anger still twisted Devlin's gut, but he forced a smile. "We can chalk that one up to you. You spotted the shark's tooth
and made the connection."
"Did Emilio still have it on him when they booked him?"
"Yeah, he did."
"What do you want to bet it won't remain in the evidence locker for long? The Shark has connections."
"Doesn't matter. We've got Emilio's confession on videotape. We don't have to have the tooth to connect him to Martin or the murder-for-passport scheme."
Frowning, Devlin went back to the missing link, the piece of the puzzle he had yet to find.
"Someone was providing Martin with information about the rig crew members. Names. Nationalities. Rotation dates. Someone with access to the AmMex personnel database."
The woman next to him gave a small hoot. "Their system isn't exactly secure. Any precocious eight-year-old could hack into it. I got in a few times myself to verify passenger data."
"Tell me something I don't know. Our experts found a dozen unauthorized accesses. We also screened thousands of e-mails sent via AmMex's satellite communications system over the past three months. None of them led back to Martin Alvarez."
"So the inside person passed the information to Alvarez by other means. In person, maybe, when he came ashore."
"Or by a message hidden in some object carried off the rig by an unsuspecting mule."
Liz made another noise, this one more of a choking gulp than a hoot.
"What?" Devlin asked.
"I haul a mail pouch out and back on every run."
"I know. Every item you hauled out and back since I arrived at the patch was screened."
"Not every item."
"What do you mean?" His brows snapped together. "Did you act as a private courier for someone on the rig?"
"Do I look stupid?"
Actually, Devlin thought wryly, she looked indignant as hell.
"I don't know most of those guys," she said, skewering him with a glare. "I wouldn't try to slip something through customs even for someone I did know. In this country, antics like that can earn you a oneway ticket to a very small, very crowded cell."
"Then what did we miss?"
"Nothing much, really. I probably shouldn't have even brought it up. Conrad Wallace had a letter he wanted to get in the mail, but he'd missed the pouch so I carried it back for him."
"Wallace, huh?"
Devlin turned the information over in his mind. After the AmMex rep had dropped that remark about losing big at the casinos, he'd had OMEGA comb through the man's personal finances. The queries had turned up a few questionable transactions but no major infusions of cash. This letter would most likely turn out to be a dead end, too. Still, it needed checking out.
"What did you do with the letter?"
"I gave it to the customs official at the terminal. I assume he screened it before he dropped it in the mail slot with the pouch."
"Did you see who it was addressed to?"
"A company in La Paz. Marine Supplies, Incorporated, or something like that."
Devlin extracted his cell phone from the case clipped to his waist. "It's probably nothing, but I'll have our guys check this company and..."
He broke off at the slam of a car door. His glance sliced to Liz.
"Expecting someone?"
"No. You?"
Shaking his head, he pushed off the sofa and slid a hand into the gear bag sitting beside the trunk. His fingers closed around cold steel as footsteps sounded on the stairs, quick and fast. Devlin jerked his chin toward the waist-high divider between the kitchen and the living room.
"Get behind the counter."
Liz gave him a disgusted look and retreated to the kitchen, only to emerge a second later with her fist wrapped around the handle of a kitchen knife.
Devlin didn't have time to argue. Thumbing the safety on the Walther PPK, he planted his shoulder blades against the wall beside the door a half second before their uninvited visitor rapped against the thick panel.
Devlin made a chopping motion, signaling Liz to remain silent. Another knock followed the first. Louder. More insistent.
"Hey! 'Lizabeth!" The shout came through the panel, muffled but distinctly male. "I saw your lights. Open up. It's me. Donny."
Liz's eyes popped. She gawked at Devlin in openmouthed astonishment before reaching for the door latch.
"What the sweet Jesus are you doing here?"
"I got your e-mail." Her former fiancée leaned an elbow on the door frame and cranked his boyish charm up to full power. "Thought if I showed up in person I might convince you to reconsider."
A dimple creased his left cheek. A week ago that lopsided smile might have given Liz pause. Now it made her want to drill a matching dent in his right cheek.
"Not tonight," she said without batting an eye. "Not tomorrow. Not ever."
"Com'on, 'Lizabeth." Still confident, still cocky, he pushed forward and grabbed her arm. "You missed me. You know you missed me."
Stunned by his arrogance, Liz whipped free of his hold. "I did. For a long time. Now I don't."
"Bull. You can't turn it off that fast."
Devlin had heard enough. Shoving the PPK into its holster, he shouldered Liz aside.
"You heard what the lady said. You're history, pal."
The gutless wonder in the doorway blinked in surprise and backed up an involuntary step. Recovering swiftly, he thrust out his jaw.
"Who the hell are you?"
"I'm the man who's going to plant his fist in your face."
Grabbing Carter by the shirtfront, Devlin spun him inside, drew back an arm and let fly. Bone crunched against bone. Blood spurted from his nose. Carter crumpled like a sandbag that had lost its fill and groaned just once before passing out cold.
Liz was seriously annoyed. She couldn't believe Donny had the balls to show up like this. She would have knocked him on his keister herself once she'd recovered from her shock.
"I wanted to do that," she groused to Devlin.
"When he comes to, you can have the next shot."
"I will."
His eyes met hers over Donny's prone body. She saw the fierce satisfaction of a male who's routed a rival and intends to claim the prize. Stepping over Donny, he curled a hand around her nape.
"I hope you're not nursing any residual pangs for this jerk."
"What do you think?"
"I think... Scratch that." His fingers tightened, drawing her closer. "I know I want to be part of your life, Liz. We can work this business of separate careers. Make our schedules fit our needs."
"Are you sure?"
His grin appeared and put a stutter in her heart. "You resolved any and all doubts this morning, when you stood your chopper on its tail. I love your courage." He brushed her mouth with his. "Your incredible skill." Another kiss, longer this time. "Then there's your nice, tight ass."
He kissed her again, hard and deep, and it was all she could do to gasp out a suggestion.
"Why don't we continue the inventory inside?"
"Good idea."
He kicked Donny's feet out of the way and went to close the door. A sudden wash of headlights across the courtyard stilled his hand.
"Now who?" Liz muttered as a black Mercedes glided to a halt beside the vehicle Donny must have driven up in. She got her answer a moment later, when a familiar twosome jumped out of the Mercedes and did a quick sweep of the courtyard.
"Uh-oh."
Tensing, Devlin reached for the automatic tucked into his waistband. "Uh-oh what?"
"The ugly one is Short Guy. The gorilla in the lavender shirt and natty shoes is Wingtips. And that," Liz added when another figure exited the rear seat, "is El Tiburon."
Devlin hefted the Walther into plain view. Spitting curses, Short Guy and Wingtips scrambled for their weapons. Their boss stilled them with a swift order and calmly surveyed the two framed in the open doorway.
"There is no need for guns," he called up to them. "I merely wish to speak with you, Ms. Moore."
Devlin answered for her. "She's not talking to anyone until you and yo
ur two goons deposit your weapons in the dirt. Slowly. Very slowly."
The Shark shrugged and reached inside his linen sports coat. Using a thumb and index finger, he extracted an automatic and let it drop. His henchmen were too loyal to argue with him, but scowled as they followed his lead.
"May we come up now, Ms. Moore?" Alvarez asked politely.
Liz looked to Devlin for guidance. She wasn't ashamed to admit she was out of her league here.
"You may," he responded for her. "But your friends wait down there."
"As you will."
"No, patron!" Wingtips followed his involuntary outburst with a spate of impassioned Spanish.
"Be quiet! Ms. Moore knows why I am here."
Liz didn't have a clue, but elected not to broadcast her ignorance as The Shark mounted the stairs.
As at their last meeting, he was elegantly dressed in pleated slacks and a dark shirt, paired this time with the linen jacket. The shirt was open down to the second or third button, affording Liz full view of the ivory triangle nestled against his chest hair.
"You got your tooth back!"
"Yes, I did."
"I knew it wouldn't remain in the evidence locker for long." "You were correct."
Unperturbed by the gun barrel Devlin had sighted on the shark's tooth, the mobster reached the top of the stairs and gave the unconscious Donny a curious glance.
"Was this one bothering you, Ms. Moore?"
"You could put it that way."
"You should have told me. I would have taken care of him for you."
"Devlin here took care of him just fine, thank you."
Alvarez turned his black eyes on the OMEGA agent. "So you are Devlin. My sources have relayed interesting reports about your activities this afternoon."
Liz could see Devlin wasn't too thrilled that the mobster had a radar lock on him, but he covered it with a careless shrug.
"My sources have relayed a few interesting reports about you, as well."
"I should imagine they have." Raising fingers tipped by neatly manicured nails, he fondled the gleaming ivory triangle and turned to Liz. "My sources also tell me you are the one who spotted this on that pig Emilio."
Devlin and the Deep Blue Sea Page 11
