Bluewater Voodoo: Mystery and Adventure in the Caribbean (Bluewater Thrillers Book 3)

by Charles Dougherty

  Pancho processed what he heard, filtering through the threats and lies. He remembered the body being loaded into the ambulance. If the cop lived, that had to be José’s body, he reasoned.

  "You work for Gines Moraga. Think he’ll get you out of this?"

  Pancho’s face blanched. The cop’s practiced gaze missed nothing.

  "You want to call Moraga? Tell him you wrecked his van running from the cops? I don’t know the man, personally, but I seen his picture an’ his record. You might be better off takin’ your chances with them ol’ boys in the lockup. One a them might kinda take a shine to you, you know, if you act sweet to him. I don’t think your buddy Moraga’s gonna be happy with you."

  When Pancho showed no further reaction to the use of Moraga’s name, the cop shifted his bulk and stared at Pancho for a moment. "There’s some things we don’t know that you could tell us, maybe help yourself a little bit, depending."

  "What?" Pancho asked, finally.

  "Your name would be a start. We got your prints; pretty good chance we’ll get your name that way, and you won’t get no points out of it."

  "Pancho."

  "Pancho, you got a last name?"

  "Esteves."

  "Good boy. See, that didn’t hurt much, Pancho. You thirsty? Want a soda?"

  Pancho shook his head.

  "How ‘bout your buddy? He got a name?"

  Pancho thought for a moment. "Ruiz. José Ruiz."

  "That’s good, Pancho. Keep cooperatin’; things might go better for you. ‘Specially if the patrolman lives. Sure you don’t want that soda?"

  Pancho shook his head.

  "Tell me about Jack and Steve, Pancho."

  "Who?" Pancho asked, puzzled.

  The big detective read the perplexity on Pancho’s face. "The two guys you and José picked up outside the Rescue Mission."

  Pancho’s features relaxed. "What about them?"

  "Where’d you take ‘em?"

  "Moraga had work for them."

  "Where, Pancho?"

  "Ask Moraga, shithead," Pancho hissed. "I’m through talkin’. I want a lawyer."

  "Ah, Pancho, I wondered how long it would take you. See, you don’t need a lawyer yet. You and me, we’re just getting’ acquainted. You don’t get no lawyer ‘til you get arrested."

  "I’m not under arrest?"

  "Of course not. We’re just two guys, talkin’. I’m startin’ to like you, Pancho. I’d buy you a beer if we was in a bar."

  "How about the handcuffs?"

  "Yeah, who put those on you, anyhow?"

  "I don’t know. If I’m not under arrest, take ‘em off."

  "Sorry. Lost my key. I’d like to help you out, though."

  "If I’m not under arrest, I’m leaving."

  "Sure, Pancho. You can do that. Just get up and walk outa here. I won’t stop you."

  Pancho got to his feet with some difficulty, but before he took a step, the detective said, "Know what’s outside that door, Pancho?" He smiled at Pancho’s fractional hesitation. "There’re a bunch of pissed off cops out there that think you killed one of their brothers. They might think you were tryin’ to escape. Those dumb bastards don’t know you’re a free man. Dangerous out there, Pancho; stick with me ‘mano. I haven’t hurt you yet. Let’s talk some more."

  Pancho sat down carefully, mindful not to jolt his broken arm. "Maybe I’d like that soda."

  ****

  "You didn’t actually see that yacht explode, did you?" Martinez asked in a tone just above a whisper.

  "N-No, Jefe, but…"

  "But…? Tell me exactly what you saw when they returned to the yacht, Moraga."

  "A woman and a man were in the dinghy with the zombie. He was unconscious. Two women met them and helped them get the zombie onto the side deck of the yacht. I couldn’t see well because the water was so rough, you know. The binoculars are…"

  "Never mind the binoculars, Moraga. Was he still wearing the backpack?"

  "I couldn’t be sure, so I waited until they hoisted the dinghy aboard before I set off the charge."

  "And then…"

  "Big clouds of black smoke from the yacht, like wood smoke, maybe diesel fuel. I couldn’t even see the little island, there was so much smoke. They couldn’t have survived unless…"

  "Yes, Moraga, unless they left the backpack ashore. It just confirms that he isn’t a professor. That’s what a trained agent would have done. They probably searched the zombie and took off the backpack."

  "Lo siento mucho, señor."

  "Yes, Moraga. I know you’re sorry; I don’t hold you responsible. I didn’t think of this either. I should have stayed with my plan to interrogate him. I think he knows something of our plan; he may work out the whole thing."

  "We could take him, señor, the two of us."

  "Yes, but I need you in Miami. There’s trouble there, and we’ll soon need more operatives for Giscard to drug, anyway. I’ll borrow some men from Sanchez and handle the professor; you get back to the base camp." Martinez told his lieutenant the latest news from Carmen and Valdez.

  Chapter 34

  "If them shif’less people would work as hard to make a livin’ as they work at stirrin’ up trouble, this here country wouldn’t be in the fix it’s in."

  "Senator O’Rourke, do you mean to imply that the homeless, many of whom are veterans who have served our country and put their lives on the line, are to blame for the sad state in which they find themselves?" The blonde with the lacquered hair pulled her face into a practiced frown, leaving no doubt as to what she thought.

  "Young lady, I didn’t imply nothin’. I said it outright, in plain English, for them that can speak it. Those bums should get to work an’ quit lookin’ for handouts. Ever’body got an obligation to serve this great country. Don’t nobody ought to get no free ride ‘cause they was in the Army. What part of ‘Get to work!’ is it that you have trouble with, ennyhow?"

  As the full-face image of the Senator was replaced on the left half of the screen by video of an unkempt throng waving roughly lettered cardboard placards, the woman’s face appeared on the right. "Kathy Conners, with the latest words of wisdom from the leading contender for the Republican presidential nomination," she said, her delivery dripping with sarcasm.

  "Hard to believe those two are sleeping with each other," Jerry Smith said, his right hand idly fondling Carmen’s ample breast as he hit the mute button with his left thumb.

  She slapped at his hand absently, as she might swat at an annoying mosquito. "Well, we only found proof of the one time. Besides, that would do more to discredit her than it would him; that’s not what Martinez is trying to do."

  "What is he trying to do, anyway?" he asked. "He’s gotten you to create this homeless veteran’s movement out of thin air, and he’s paying you to make sure that no opportunity to show O’Rourke as a Technicolor idiot goes unnoticed. Meanwhile, he had me chasing down rumors about zombies, and now he wants us both to monitor that reality TV dude. Now it looks like the Living Dead Productions bunch is paying Greg Elliot to watch Martinez. Strange."

  "Money’s good. Besides, watching O’Rourke is like watching that sitcom from the sixties about the bigot with the beer belly and the dumbass family. You know the one?"

  "Yeah. I remember. Can’t call the name. My parents used to like it. Hard to believe it was funny once. He was like the Tea Party before the Tea Party started. You know they had the set for their living room in the Smithsonian?"

  "They oughta have O’Rourke in the Smithsonian," Carmen said. "Proof that the Neanderthals live."

  ****

  "I’m not ready to back off on this ‘Zombie Next Door’ idea, Chuck," RDF said, his feet on his massive desk as he spoke into a speakerphone, waving a $50 cigar around expansively, although he was alone in the office. "But go ahead and talk to this lady. You call her a ‘mamba?’ I thought that was some kind of snake, like from the Tarzan movies when we were kids. Why do you call her that?"

  "Mambo, RDF. She�
��s a mambo asogwe. A mambo is a Voodoo priestess. A mambo asogwe is one with the authority to ordain others as priests and priestesses."

  "Voodoo, huh? Now that sounds interesting, Professor. She do kinky sex in some of that Voodoo shit? That why they name her after a snake?"

  "RDF, she's in her late 80s. She’s a dignified old lady. I think she’d have a good presence on camera."

  "Does she like, handle the snake? Do anything kinky with it?"

  "Where are you getting this ‘snake’ stuff from RDF?"

  "I read that shit you gave me in the proposal. Damballah, that’s like the snake-god, right?"

  "Yeah, sort of. Damballah is the embodiment of one of the most powerful loa. The snake is the symbol for Damballah; a loa is a spirit, kind of like a saint in Christianity. It’s pretty complicated. She doesn’t actually handle the snake. I don’t even know if she’s got one."

  "Well, look. You guys came pretty damn close. Too bad the zombie died; if you want to talk to this lady while we’re looking for another zombie, yeah, sure. Go ahead, but I’m not thinking an old lady’s gonna do much for ratings. She got a daughter? Granddaughter, maybe? You get some slinky looking black babe with nice tits not wearing anything but a couple of big snakes, that might make an episode or two, see. But no old ladies; not on camera. And we still need a zombie or two to go with the snakes and the tits. Trust me on this, Chuck. You and Lilly got the academic credentials, but I know what Americans want in their living rooms, okay?"

  "Okay, RDF. I’ll be back in touch after we talk to her."

  "Sure, Professor. Remember, snakes and tits and zombies. That sells. Trust me."

  ****

  "Did you talk to your sponsor, Professor?" Dani asked, taking a sip of rum punch. They were all gathered on Phillip’s veranda, comparing notes while they waited for Sandrine to get home from work.

  "Yes," he mumbled, looking down into his glass.

  "Well, what did he say, Chuck?" Lilly asked.

  "He’s willing for us to talk with Racine while we scout around for another zombie. It’s going to take a while to get him to move off of that. We need to come up with a way to work a little mystery into this. Maybe Racine can help us find some younger mambo to spice things up. But he’s open to the idea, anyway. What’s on Racine’s mind?"

  "She’ll meet with us in the morning. She’s lobbying hard for us to help get the houngan back and get those two thugs out of the Haitian’s village. She’s going to have Richard DeMille there tomorrow, so he can tell us about how things are in the vi…, uh, what’s that word, Professor?"

  "Bateye."

  "Right. How things are in the bateye. Richard’s been keeping her posted about that. Martinez calls his two guys every day, just to stay in touch, I guess."

  "You want me along, Dani?" Phillip asked. "Sounds like you’ve got a crowd, already."

  Dani thought for a moment. "You’re right. Maybe you should stay back. She does know who you are, though. Probably wouldn’t bother her if you came. Let’s hold off deciding for now."

  Phillip nodded his concurrence. "Okay. I talked to Clarence. Midnight Thunder is ours; she’s all fueled up and loaded with ordnance. He offered the stealth helicopter, too – he’s not busy, so we can just call him if we need air support."

  "Good," Dani said. "You think he could loan us a couple of crew for Thunder? I’m thinking it would be best to leave Liz on Vengeance with Lilly and the professor. Kind of like a base camp -- a clearing house for communications. We may need you to get word to Paul Russo or Clarence or the Coast Guard, Liz."

  "Yes. He already offered, and don’t forget about Sharktooth," Phillip said.

  "You talk to him?" Dani asked.

  Phillip nodded. "We’ll pick him up in Dominica on the way."

  "On the way? We don’t know where we’re going yet, do we?"

  "Well, that brings me to Paul. There’s all kinds of stuff happening up in Miami. The captain of Santa Magdalena rolled over and told everything he knew. Besides Giscard and Martinez and the zombie, there was a guy named Moraga who’s Martinez’s second in command. I told you about that, but there’s more. The captain knew about the drugs and stolen goods, but he didn’t know about the explosives in the crates. Moraga brought the crates with him when he came aboard with the RIB. They figure he got that from the marine detachment in St. Lucia. The captain said that his family in Venezuela is being held hostage to keep him in line. Moraga had told him two guys would come looking for the crates in Miami. Homeland Security’s pretty excited. I guess it’s enough plastique to really worry them – Paul said enough to wipe out Miami. The next part of Paul’s story is confusing -- not sure I followed it, but the short version is the cops picked up a guy named Pancho Esteves who worked for Moraga. Esteves confirmed that they were all working for Martinez, and that Moraga had sent him and another guy, who got killed when they tried to run a roadblock, to kidnap homeless veterans in Miami. They were working out of a base camp in the Everglades. They got two guys before they got busted, and they helped Moraga smuggle them to Bimini, where a float plane picked the two guys and Moraga up. Now comes the strange part. Esteves said that the rumor in the camp was that Martinez had some kind of witch doctor that was going to turn these guys into zombies, and then they would bring them back to the states."

  "Okay, so any idea why Martinez wants the professor?" Dani asked.

  "Probably wrong place, wrong time," Phillip offered. "Once Martinez knew you were after zombies, you were a liability to him, I guess," he said, looking at the professor. "Oh, yeah. I got distracted with the Miami story and almost forgot to tell you about Sharktooth."

  "Who is this Sharktooth guy you keep mentioning?" Lilly asked.

  "I’ll tell you later," Liz said. "Long story."

  "What about him, Phillip?" Dani asked.

  "One of his fishing buddies has been selling puffer fish to a Hispanic guy in a big RIB that comes and goes from a ship or a yacht over the horizon to the west of Dominica."

  "Think that might be Martinez?" Dani asked.

  "Martinez, or maybe Moraga. Sandrine did discover that Moraga flew from Guadeloupe to Miami the same day Martinez showed up in the Saintes, but remember, Pancho Esteves told the cops he took Moraga to Bimini with the two homeless guys they kidnapped. With a float plane, he could be back in the islands by now."

  Chapter 35

  "How long, Giscard?" Martinez asked, his impatience written in the frown that creased his forehead.

  "Some days, Señor Martinez. I must prepare the fish, and then I must process the livers. It is hard to say how long they must dry before I begin; I just have to wait until they feel the right way to my fingers."

  "Can’t you dry the fish in the oven in the galley? That would speed things up. Moraga will be back with more men soon; these two must be ready for him to take them back to the States then."

  "No, señor. The heat would have some effects on the liver of the fish. I cannot predict what would happen; in order to get the results you want, I must follow the practice the way it was taught to me. If I change from the old way, we will lose time. I would have to experiment with the amount of the potion; it would be like beginning again from hundreds of years ago. It might kill the men, or it might not work. I know only one way to do what you wish; that is the way that has been taught for many generations. It will only take some days, not too long, especially if the air stays dry. I do not think it will rain soon, so that will help."

  "Okay, Giscard. But remember, the sooner you get this done, the sooner you can be back with your niece and her children. By the way, my men report that her husband is recovering, so when we are done here, you can go back to the way things were before the zombie. If you continue to cooperate, I will send you home a wealthy man, and you can help your people."

  "Yes, señor. I understand," the houngan said, but the look on his face betrayed his skepticism. "Señor, you must know that I will tell no one of this shameful thing you would have me do," he said, uncertainly.
<
br />   Martinez smiled. "Of course, houngan. You are afraid that I won’t let you return to your bateye because you know too much. You are a smart man, to understand that I will be taking a big risk if I allow you to go free. We must trust each other, my friend, and I know something that I haven’t shared about life in the bateye. You know a young woman named Annie, who works in the hotel office? She is friendly with your niece, I think."

  "Yes, I know Annie."

  "I understand that she is quite an attractive girl, Giscard. One of my men is smitten with her, it seems, and she with him."

  "I see," Giscard said, a puzzled look on his face as he tried to fathom where the conversation was headed.

  "He is a fine young man, from a good family, Giscard, and he is in love, so everything looks wonderful to him. Even life in the bateye, which he says is not so different from the life he knew before he became a marine. I am thinking that perhaps he may wish to stay and become part of your community. You and I could both be comfortable, then, perhaps. What do you think?"

  "You told me that one of the men, ah…"

  "Oh, yes, of course. You are worried that he is the pervert I told you about. Do not worry, my friend. That is the other man. He does not wish to stay in such a rustic place. That one is bored already, asking to be relieved of his duty. I believe you will find Annie’s new friend a fine addition to your little community."

  ****

  Phillip Davis sat on his veranda, drinking coffee and looking out at the yachts anchored off the little village of Ste. Anne. Dani had gone with the professor and Lilly to visit Racine Laveau, and Liz was busy with routine maintenance on Vengeance. Phillip had been working the phone since early morning, calling his contacts on the neighboring islands. Before his recent retirement, his business with Dani’s father had required him to cultivate cordial relations with customs authorities throughout the Caribbean. He maintained the relationships out of friendship now, which made them that much stronger in both directions.