Sails Job - A Connie Barrera Thriller: The 6th Novel in the Caribbean Mystery and Adventure Series (Connie Barrera Thrillers)

by Charles Dougherty

  "Nothing. Her prints aren't in the system. She may be clean, or maybe not. You know how that goes. Based on the company she keeps, I'd say she's just been lucky so far not to get in trouble. Kathy Lewis is her real name, sort of."

  "What does 'sort of' mean?" Connie asked.

  "Well, Lewis is her married name. She may not know that Frank's real name is Smith. Her maiden name was Jones."

  They were silent for several seconds, and then Connie said, "Before you go, we need to let you know that Kathy is definitely trying to recruit us. Or I guess I should say she's trying to recruit me. Paul's just part of the package, I think."

  "That's great! Tell me about it."

  Connie recounted her conversation with Kathy from yesterday afternoon.

  "I take it you haven't given her an answer yet," Johnson said.

  "That's right. I'm still thinking about it, as far as she knows."

  "Good. I think we'll want you to buy in, but I'll need to get the okay on that. We'll front the money if we want you to do it; don't worry. But I need to run that up the flagpole. Half a million, you said?"

  "Half a million to a million," Connie said.

  "I don't mean to pry into your personal business, but is that credible? If she does a credit check of some kind, is it plausible that you could come up with that kind of money?"

  "Yes," Connie said. "Diamantista II's worth that, and we own her outright. I can accidentally leave our insurance policy out for her to see; I just happen to have it handy. We just renewed it, and it's got a surveyor's appraisal attached."

  "Okay," Johnson said. "Do that, just in case she's curious. Do you think you can stall her for a day before you give her an answer?"

  "Yes. If she brings it up, I'll probe her on what they're investing in. That's a reasonable question. I'll just proceed as if I were really considering putting that kind of money into their fund. I know what kinds of questions to ask. I've been through investment decisions before."

  "That would be great. Any way you might be able to record some of that conversation?"

  "Sure. My phone will do that with no trouble."

  "Great. What else is on your minds?"

  "Where did you come out on the bogus FBI agents that visited Contreras?" Paul asked.

  "Dead end. We sent somebody around to talk to Contreras to get a description of them, but he's out of pocket for a few days. There was a guy filling in for him at the gym, but he didn't know anything. Contreras calls in for messages a few times a day, though, so he'll try to put him in touch with us. Why?"

  "Just curious," Paul said.

  "Okay. I'll put a rush on the decision about the money. I may be able to get that nailed down today. I'm sure it's a go; but it'll take a couple of signatures, so hold off on making a commitment if she pushes you."

  "Got it," Connie said.

  "Talk to you both later, then," Johnson said.

  "Right. Goodbye," Paul said, and disconnected the call.

  Chapter 23

  "I'm so glad we stopped here," Kathy said. "Dominica's like a different world; I've never seen such a beautiful place -- so much unspoiled nature."

  "It is pretty," Connie said. "They've focused on the ecotourism sector in their efforts to market the country, and it's easy to see why they're having so much success. How did you get on with Sharktooth?"

  "He's incredible. Nobody would ever guess he's so well educated. Not that he comes across as backward; he's clearly a bright man. But still ... "

  "He does hide that part of his background. He thinks his local buddies will make fun of him. That's why I mentioned it to you; I thought you two might have something in common with your backgrounds in economics."

  "As it turned out, not too much," Kathy said. "My little niche is so specialized that I don't think he quite got it."

  "Like that old joke, huh?" Connie said.

  "I don't know. Which old joke?"

  "Oh, pick a discipline. I don't want to offend anybody -- could be economics, or physics, or medicine. It's a commentary on specialization, really, about learning more and more about less and less, until you know almost everything about nearly nothing."

  "That's what a PhD is." Kathy laughed. "You've heard that one?"

  Connie shook her head.

  "Well, everybody knows what BS means," Kathy said.

  Connie nodded.

  "And MS, well, that just means more of the same."

  Connie smiled at that. "And PhD?"

  "Piled higher and deeper," Kathy said, laughing.

  Connie chuckled. "Cute. PhDs don't have the reputation of being self-deprecating."

  "No," Kathy said. "That, and they never make fun of themselves, either."

  Connie coughed into her fist at that, doubling over.

  "You okay?" Kathy asked. "Take a swallow of wine." She picked up Connie's glass and handed it to her.

  "Thanks," Connie said, taking a sip. "Well, anyway, I'm glad you enjoyed the tour."

  "Oh, we did. It's too bad there's not a fancy resort here where we could have the conference."

  "This is a great anchorage -- plenty of room, and plenty of deep water, too," Connie said.

  Kathy looked at her and frowned, shaking her head slightly.

  "Sorry," Connie said. "I wasn't trying to be obtuse; I just didn't make the connection clear. I was thinking that Dominica would be a good place to come if you had the conference on a big yacht, like we talked about."

  "Oh, yeah! You're right. It certainly would be. Thanks. I wasn't even looking at it that way."

  "Is Frank working?" Connie asked, "or is he just recovering from a day of sightseeing?"

  "Oh, no. He's working. I'm supposed to call him when Paul's ready to serve dinner, but he can't really take a day off. Money never rests."

  "I haven't heard that one, but it makes sense," Connie said, "in a way, at least."

  "Speaking of working and money," Kathy said, "have you thought any more about what we talked about?"

  Connie smiled. "Of course I have. Paul's thinking it over, too. We were wondering, though ... "

  "Yes?" Kathy prompted. "Wondering about?"

  "About what kind of investments you're into that have the kind of returns you mentioned."

  "Ah. That's a reasonable question. We're always on the lookout for opportunities that offer a quick return. The landscape is always changing. so it's not easy to give you a straightforward answer, like saying manufacturing, or, construction loans, or whatever. You see?"

  Connie nodded but didn't say anything.

  "As Frank hinted when we first met, his law practice was a source of investment opportunity for us. A lot of promising businesses have trouble getting the capital they need for expansion because they don't fit into the categories on the bank loan applications. There's a saying that banks won't loan you money unless you don't need it, but if you need it, it's too risky. Did you ever run into that?"

  Connie smiled. "Sure. It can be tough if you're just starting out. If you're in a business that's a little unusual, it's even worse."

  Kathy grinned. "You've been there. How'd you get over the hurdle?"

  "Uh," Connie said, "non-traditional lenders."

  "You mean, not banks, right?"

  "Right. And it was expensive, plus we couldn't find much except short-term financing."

  "What did you have for collateral?"

  "Not much, usually. We didn't own our facilities, so there was no equity there, and we weren't a manufacturer or a retailer, so we didn't have inventory. We could factor our receivables, but that never gave us enough to finance the kind of growth we needed to make it. We were bootstrapped, for the most part, but that limits the speed of growth. If you're in a market with low barriers to entry, somebody else with plenty of cash can come in and gobble up share until there's nothing left but crumbs."

  "You're describing the kind of businesses that we invest in. We make sure the companies we put money into are the ones that gobble up the market share, as you put it."
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  "But how?" Connie asked. "You said you were focused on emerging markets. That increases the risk by orders of magnitude. You've got to pick a market that's going to boom, as well as picking a participant that can win share from its competitors."

  "That's where Mactren comes in," Kathy said.

  "Your software?"

  "Yes. The algorithms, really."

  "That's market focused, though, isn't it?"

  "Somewhat, but it can help pick worthwhile organizations within a market."

  "How are your markets segmented?" Connie asked.

  "What are you really asking?"

  "Does Mactren spotlight geography? Or an industry?" Connie asked.

  "Oh, both."

  "So what's hot, right now? Where are you putting your money?"

  Kathy studied Connie for a moment, frowning. "Just between you and me?"

  "Of course," Connie said.

  Kathy pursed her lips, tapping them with her index finger. After a few seconds, she nodded, and said, "South America, the Caribbean basin, wholesale pharmaceuticals."

  "Drugs?" Connie asked.

  "That word is loaded with negative meanings. We prefer pharmaceuticals."

  "Okay, but legal?" Connie asked.

  "In general, of course. But keep in mind that what's legal in one country may not be legal in another, if you get my drift."

  "I think I do, but isn't that high-risk?"

  "High returns offset the risk, if you diversify adequately. And there's the opportunity to make money on currency fluctuations, as well. We have some money in organizations who trade, and some in organizations that make money in the financial side of the market. But that's really an oversimplification, and things change quickly. We could be somewhere else next month, if the wind shifts, so to speak."

  Connie nodded. "I see. If we decide to get into this, how would it work?"

  "You mean the mechanics, from an investor's perspective?" Kathy asked.

  "Yes. If Paul and I said yes, what would happen?"

  "What are we saying yes to?" Paul asked, appearing at the companionway opening.

  "Oh, I was just asking Kathy how things would work if we decided to invest with them."

  "Ah! Dinner's almost ready. Is this a good place for you two to stop?"

  "Sure," said Kathy. "I need to get Frank to pull his head out of that computer, and I'd rather relax over dinner than talk business. Any chance we could take up with this tomorrow, Connie? While we're sailing, maybe?"

  "That's fine," Connie said.

  "Good. After dinner, I'll pull some stuff together so I can show you how it all works tomorrow. It's easier if I just put it all on my iPad so we can go hands-on."

  "Great," Connie said. "You want to leave tomorrow, then?"

  "Well, that's what we were thinking, but we're both beat. Will you have to go to customs or whatever before we leave?"

  "No, not from Dominica. As long as we leave within two weeks after we cleared in, we're okay, here. Every country's a little different."

  "Okay. How long will it take, from here to St. Lucia? Rodney Bay? Didn't you say that's a good place to anchor and clear in?"

  "Yes. Depending on the wind, it's ten to twelve hours from here."

  "And how far from there to the Grenadines?"

  "If we stop in Bequia for clearance, it's a shorter trip than from here to Rodney Bay. Say eight to ten hours."

  "And you said Palm Island was close to Bequia, right?"

  "Palm Island and Petit St. Vincent are very close together, and they're about three hours from Bequia."

  "Then we could hang out here for another day and get some rest. That still leaves us plenty of time to get to Palm Island for our meeting. And the other place is the next day."

  "That's fine with us. Sharktooth could probably do a half-day snorkel trip tomorrow, if you're interested. Get you back here a bit after lunch, say?"

  "That sounds really good. Will you call him and set it up?"

  "Sure. I'll be glad to."

  "Good. Let me go freshen up and get Frank before Paul puts dinner on the table."

  ****

  Connie Barrera was working for one of the cartels, according to the man who had called himself Overton. Leon Contreras shook his head. That was hard to believe, but that's what the man had said. He'd been drugged at the time, courtesy of Jorge, who was driving the van at the moment. Miguel sat in the front passenger seat.

  "You think we can trust what we got out of Overton?" Contreras asked, from the back seat of the van. They had shorted the electronic ignition in the rental car Overton and Willis had been driving, leaving it disabled in the desert. Then they had stripped the two captives and force-marched them a few miles from the car, careful not to leave any footprints themselves. They had drugged the two men and interrogated them before untying them and leaving them naked and semiconscious in the Mojave's 115-degree heat.

  Miguel turned in his seat, facing Contreras. "Yeah, I think so. Their answers were consistent. You agree, Jorge?"

  Jorge, eyes on the road, nodded. "Yeah. It was a good session. That stuff's magic, man. If that ever happens to me, I hope I get to go the same way they did. Sure beats gettin' burned with cigarettes and shit like that."

  "No shit," Miguel said. "Why, Leon? Something bothering you?"

  "Maybe. They said Barrera was fronting for some new cartel. That doesn't square with what I know about her."

  "Ah, well," Miguel said. "When they're under like that, they'll tell you what they believe is true. That doesn't mean it really is, you know. Probably what that lawyer told them."

  "Right," Contreras said. "Thanks for reminding me. They seemed so sure of themselves."

  "That shit does that. Breaks down all their inhibitions, makes 'em want to spill whatever they know. No strain, man. It's like they're goin' to confession, or something, like it makes 'em feel good to answer your questions."

  "You ever heard of SpecCorp?" Contreras asked.

  Miguel shook his head, but Jorge cleared his throat and said, "Yeah, I have. Basically mercenaries. Most of 'em are veterans, a lot of them with less than honorable discharges, but not all. They'll hire anybody that's been through the right training and survived a few combat tours. They do a lot of contract work for the military. Couple of guys in my unit went to work with 'em when they got out."

  "But they do private work, too?" Contreras asked.

  "So I've heard," Miguel said. "Overton and Willis aren't the only ones I've heard say that, either. I guess they'll work for whoever pays 'em, you know."

  "Either of you ever hear of this Art Jansen before?"

  "Not me," Miguel said.

  "Nope." Jorge shook his head.

  "After you drop me back at the gym, you mind doing a little follow up? See what you can find out about him?"

  "Sure, no problem," Miguel said. "They said he was a lawyer of some kind. Office in West Palm Beach. Should make it pretty easy to track him down. How much do you want?"

  "As much as you can get. A list of his clients would be good. He probably didn't hire SpecCorp on his own dime, you know."

  "Jorge and I may have to pay an after-hours visit to his office for that. Could be a little risky. You okay with that?"

  "As long as you don't get caught."

  "No chance of that. But we might not be able to hide the fact that somebody broke in, you know. We'll cover our tracks, though. Not to worry. If we can't leave a sterile scene, we'll steal some computers and shit and set up some local druggie to fence it all."

  "Good," Contreras said.

  "What are you thinking, Leon?" Jorge asked. "Big picture; it might help."

  "Yeah, sure," Contreras said. "When these two first showed up, they wanted to know what cartel Barrera and I were working for. Given what we know now, I figure they were working for one themselves, even if they didn't know it."

  "Somebody from down south's checking out the competition, you mean?" Miguel asked.

  "Uh-huh," Contreras said. "We kn
ow somebody new is trying to get a piece of Florida. These two might have been working for them, or they might have been trying to figure who's trying to cut in on the Florida action. Either way, we'll get something worth knowing."

  "Gotcha," Jorge said. "Anything else?" he asked, as he stopped the van.

  Contreras leaned forward, looking out the windshield. "I didn't realize we were back already. No, just stay in touch, and lose this van, just in case."

  "You got it, Jefe," Jorge said. "Buena suerte."

  "Y ustedes, también," Contreras said, sliding open the side door of the van and climbing out.

  ****

  Harold Norris had spent the afternoon wandering around a shopping mall. He knew he'd tripped the alarms on the Barrera file. That's why he'd left work early the day before yesterday. He'd called in sick yesterday and immediately left his apartment carrying the boogie bag that he always kept packed.

  He'd used one of his alternate identities to check into a mid-priced motel and used their Wi-Fi and a virtual private network to hide his IP and MAC addresses while he monitored the webcam that he'd installed in his cubicle. Within an hour, the creeps from the Internal Investigation Section had appeared at his desk and emptied the drawers into evidence boxes. A technician had disconnected his desktop computer and loaded it on a dolly. He was finished.

  He'd always known that it was likely to end this way. He was prepared mentally, but he needed more money in order to vanish to Brazil. He'd expected that he would have a little longer to build his reserves. Adding that fictitious older woman had been a stroke of genius; he should have thought of it earlier. He could have doubled his take from Art Jansen that way. Too late now, though.

  But he had another option. Blackmail worked two ways. Jansen had used that video of him with the male prostitute to make sure he followed instructions, but the video didn't matter anymore. Jansen could shove it up his ass for all the leverage it would give him now. But Jansen had a little problem. Norris grinned, anticipating putting the squeeze on his buddy, Art.

  He had the goods on Art Jansen, the lawyer/drug kingpin. Art could afford to fund Norris's retirement; Norris knew how much money passed through Jansen's South Florida operation. He knew that there was somebody above Jansen; he had a pretty good idea who it was, too. But he didn't want to play that card just yet. Brazil might be more expensive than he thought; he might need to come back for a second tranche, as the money people called it. So he'd just hold the Senator in reserve.