A DANGEROUS HARBOR

by RP Dahlke

  "I do, but have you seen Myne this morning? She's supposed to bring me food every day, not just when she feels like it. I pay for a private cell or I'd have three other lice-infested wetbacks for roommates," he said, taking a chair across from her.

  "I'm sure the wetbacks would prefer you have your own cell, too."

  "I give her one simple job to do… she's probably sunning herself on the deck and painting her damn toenails."

  "I'd think you'd be more worried about getting off a murder charge than about the whereabouts of your mistress."

  He turned his head to stare at her; the effect was like having a large lizard turn its disinterested eyes on a potential meal. "That's being handled."

  "You mean the deal you thought you had with the feds?"

  He slouched down in his chair, arms folded, now relaxed and sure of himself.

  "You have quite the arsenal of toadies at your disposal, Spencer, but the feds have picked someone else to testify, so you get to stay in a nice Mexican jail until they decide they have the resources to prosecute you."

  Spencer hung an arm over his chair and said, "You're the one who said I was innocent, remember?"

  She wasn't about to give him an inch, not when she was sure he was behind the plot to murder Raul. "You had the chief inspector's home blown up last night, didn't you?"

  "It's sad, but I ran out of options at a time when I needed them most. Which brings me to you; I think I can make you an offer you won't be able to refuse."

  There it was again. That eerie similarity to The Godfather.

  "You're kidding. Do you really think I'd do anything to help you, knowing you murdered Raul Vignaroli? If nothing else, I'll plant some evidence just to make sure you stay in a Mexican prison for the rest of your life."

  "It's nice to know that for once my sources were right, you were in love with that annoying policeman. Well, my dear, I have no intention of waiting for the Mexicans to send me to one of their horrid little prisons. I want you to do the one thing no one else has been able to do—get me released from his hell hole."

  "Not in a million years."

  "Oh come now. It'll be easy. I already have the paperwork for a transfer by an American Marshal to the States. Unfortunately, your boyfriend had him picked up at the Rosarito checkpoint, so you're going to be my safe passage out of this jail."

  "Congratulations, Spencer. You've just managed to piss off the last person in Mexico who could possibly help you get out of jail."

  He tipped an eyebrow at her. "Touché. And, if I may say so, you have some cojones on you for such a little thing. Myne should take lessons." He reached into his pocket and extracted an envelope and handed it to her. "Here is the paperwork. You will notice that your passport is also in there. Go back to your boat, get your police ID and come back here in one hour. I'll be waiting. Don't worry about the Mexican police, they're too busy chasing their tails."

  She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. "You're out of your mind."

  "Oh, did I forget something? Yes, sorry, completely forget to tell you—your sister is now in the hands of my associates. She will be waiting for us at the airport. Unless, of course, you refuse to do as I ask, and then I will have her body bulldozed into a Mexican dump."

  "Leila's in LA."

  "No, no. Seems your dear sister was worried about you, flew down to give you moral support. Beautiful girl, your sister. Maybe I'll give her as a thank-you gift to my new Mexican friends, the head of the Sinaloa Cartel. I'm sure he would appreciate a real live American television actress."

  Katy closed her eyes. How the hell did this happen? Gabe, Leila. She'd left them both on the boat. Then what happened to Gabe?

  "Ah, I see you're considering my offer. Your Gabe was so helpful, led us right to her, good man that he is. Ask anyone, I never forget a favor… or a slight."

  She should have anticipated something like this, but it hurt to think Gabe would betray her for Spencer. "I don't believe you."

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone, punched in a couple of numbers and waited. He spoke into the phone. "Put her on, please?" When he handed the phone to Katy, she gingerly held it by two fingers and away from her head.

  "Katrina? Is that you?"

  It was Leila.

  "Where are you?" she asked quickly and just as quickly the phone was yanked out of her hand and closed.

  She pushed back the chair and leaned over him, pointing to the cell phone. "I'll take that."

  Spencer smirked, stood up and banged on the door.

  She was surprised to see the door swing open so fast. The guard must've been standing outside waiting for instructions.

  Spencer nodded at Katy. "She needs to leave, now."

  She reached out and made a grab for his cell phone, but Spencer easily held the phone above her outstretched arm.

  "Nah, nah, nah—we'll have none of that. I have a steady supply of these little gizmos and this one will be long gone by the time anyone gets around to asking about it. Which, by the way, may be much later than any late night date you might have planned. The Mexican federals are swarming around the bomb site like so many angry bees, looking for clues, and of course, your boyfriend's body."

  Raul might still be alive, but the fact that he boasted about the bombing of Raul's home made her anger rise up and she was tempted to smash in his ugly nose.

  Spencer simpered and giggled, as if this was all a fun and funny practical joke. "I always wanted to say this," he said, then lowered his voice into a theatrical snarl. "Do as I say and your sister lives. It's so menacing, don't you think? Come now, I don't have all day, so chop-chop."

  He exited the room and his guard manhandled her out the door, down the stairs and soon she was standing in the hot sunlight blinking at the foreign landscape. Nothing was the same anymore; not the street vendors with the smell of tacos bubbling in a nearby pot, not the careless motorists speeding by, and nothing was going to matter until she found her sister.

  The devil incarnate he might be, but he wasn't going to twist her around his finger. She'd get her sister back and then Spencer would rue the day he ever tangled with her.

  She swiped at the unshed tears, took out her cell phone and tried Raul's phone again. The line buzzed with a busy signal. She desperately wanted to hear his voice again, to reassure her that he was still alive, still willing to wrap his arms around her and tell her that there was still hope for them. The last honest policeman in Ensenada, and he wasn't going to be able to help her. She snapped the phone shut. Time to go find her sister.

  Chapter Twenty-two:

  All the way back to the marina, Katy continued to try Raul's cell. She hopped out of the taxi, paid the driver and power-walked the distance from the hotel to her marina gate, hoping against hope that Spencer Bobbitt had been lying, or that Gabe had somehow foiled Spencer's henchmen and at this very moment they were sitting in her boat, laughing about high-school antics.

  Raul's cell phone finally connected to voicemail. Breathless, she slowed her pace and with the minimum of details told him what she was doing and where he could expect to find her within the next hour. If it was nothing more than wishful thinking, it still gave her a sense of hope. If Raul Vignaroli was still alive he would come for her, she knew it.

  She clicked the cell phone closed and willed him to call her back, then hurried through the gate and ran for the boat. It was empty, the hatch board out, the lock hanging off the hasp. Leila's big white sun hat was on the settee, her tea mug still warm on the counter as if she'd just laid it down to answer a knock on the hull. Where was Gabe? Off someplace counting the blood money he got for selling her sister to Spencer? Myne. Could she be in on this with Spencer? Although nothing so far indicated Myne would go along with a kidnapping plot, she might have caved under the pressure from Spencer, especially if the threat came with a promise of some much needed cash.

  She ran to Spencer's yacht, pounded on the locked salon door then took the stairs down to the l
ower level, counting portholes until she came to Myne's room. The room was dark and empty.

  Back on top again, she looked across the marina parking lot and saw Gabe casually sauntering through the parking lot as he made his way to her gate. She ran down the dock and opened the gate.

  "Uh, hi," he said, showing her a pack of cigarettes. "I know you told me not to leave, but Leila was out and we both…what's wrong?"

  "Where's Leila, you bastard!"

  "Whoa," he said, putting up his hands to wave at the heat of her anger. "What're you talking about?"

  "You sold my sister to Spencer so I'd get him out of jail," she said, grabbing his left thumb and forcing his arm behind his back and up to his scapula.

  "Ouch! That hurts, Katy. I promise you, had no idea. Where's Raul?"

  "Like you didn't know. Spencer had Raul's home blown up to create a diversion for his escape."

  She was listening to him grunt and swear and make excuses for himself and… "What did you say?"

  "I said, she asked for cigarettes and I went back to my trailer to get some. Katy, please, you know me, I wouldn't hurt a hair on Leila's head."

  She let go of his thumb and turned him around to face her. The only thing on his face was worry, not guilt.

  "Come on," she said, "I'll apologize later, after you help me find my sister."

  Inside the boat, she gathered her police ID and the Glock she had taped under a floor board. She shrugged off Gabe's stuttered amazement that she dared to stash a weapon on her boat. "If it comes to killing the bastard to get my sister back, I'll deal with the charges later."

  "Fire extinguishers and baseball bats be damned, huh? You sure have grown up, Katy. So, what's next?"

  "The police station was crawling with federal police and I don't have time to wait anymore. It's you and me, Gabe."

  "I'm in, you know I am. Tell me what you want me to do."

  Katy was thinking she was going to need someone at the airport for backup. "Have you got access to a car? Someone you can borrow one from?"

  "Not today. All the guys are at jobs."

  "Fred's got a car, we'll ask him."

  "But isn't he still on the inspector's list of suspects?"

  "It's time I found out who I can trust and right now I need the help."

  Gabe followed her to Fred's boat and Astrid, her cheeks red and her face blotchy from crying, motioned them inside and closed the slider. "We were just having a father-daughter talk about Jeff Cook."

  Fred stood up when he saw Katy. "What's wrong?"

  Choosing her words carefully, she addressed Astrid. "Remember how I told you that sisters don't always do it right? Well, my sister picked yesterday to come down for a visit. Only problem is, Spencer had her kidnapped right off my boat while I was on my way to see him in jail. I've been instructed to help him escape or he's going to have her killed."

  Astrid gasped.

  Fred raked Gabe with his hooded glare. "And where were you when all this happened?"

  Gabe shot back, "I was out, picking up cigarettes."

  Katy turned to Gabe and tilted her head as she thought out loud. "Even with Gabe off the boat, there are all sorts of people on the dock this time of day. I still don't understand how they could do it. Wait—uniforms, they had to be wearing marina or police uniforms. They came to my boat, told her I was waiting for her and they'd take her to me. Leila wouldn't go more than a few feet without becoming suspicious, asking unwanted questions. She'd want to call me. If they objected… Oh my God." Katy walked out onto the deck of Fred's yacht and they all followed. She pointed out her boat, measuring off the distance someone would have to go with an unconscious woman over their shoulder, through the gate, to a waiting car.

  "She's right here on this dock. Astrid, do you know where Myne is?"

  "I'm here, Katy." Katy turned around to see Myne, her long blond hair wet from a recent shower.

  Astrid went to her sister and protectively put her arm around her shoulder. "She wouldn't have anything to do with your sister, Katy, she's been here all day."

  Myne processed her sister's words, then let out a squeal. "Your sister… Leila Standiford is here? Where? What's she wearin'? I can't wait to meet her. Oh, Astrid, you won't believe this… Katy's sister's a movie star!"

  Astrid looked fondly at her younger sister. "Hon, I think we need to find her first. Seems Spencer had her kidnapped."

  "He wouldn't!" Looking from her sister to her dad to Katy and seeing the grim looks on their faces, she said, "That bastard! Does he have any idea who she is?"

  Katy said, "My sister would not go willingly with kidnappers. Not after all she's been through."

  "She'd kick up a fuss, huh? I knew it. She's as tough as her character on TV."

  Katy wasn't about to ruin Myne's hero worship, not when she needed Myne to help her find her sister. "I'm thinking she's still on this dock. Maybe even on Spencer's yacht."

  Myne turned her head to look at the long expanse of Spencer's boat and said, "I locked it up before I left. You took Wally's key, Katy, but there's still one left."

  Katy nodded. "And he would wear his captain's uniform."

  Fred said, "Just a minute. I'll be right back."

  When he left, the two girls started chattering.

  "Daddy was right about him…"

  "And to think we both…"

  "I'm sorry I didn't listen to you…"

  "I'm sorry too…"

  Katy held up a hand. "Ladies! Can we leave it for later? My sister's life is hanging on a thread. I have to find her before Spencer has her moved to the airport."

  Myne dug into her pocket and came out with her key. With her arms around her sister, she said, "We'll help you find your sister, Katy, it's the least we can do."

  "Now girls," said Fred, holding a machete. "If anyone gets to punish that good-for-nothing Jeff, it's going to be me. Then it's Spencer's turn."

  "Daddy," Astrid said, "you don't have to go that far. Katy's a policewoman and she knows what to do."

  Fred looked down at her from his considerably long nose. "Well, do you? Know what you're doing, Miss Hunter?"

  Katy lifted a finger and they all stopped talking. "Myne's got a key. If we get started now, we can find out if my sister is where I suspect she is, on Spencer's boat."

  Gabe touched her arm. "This could go either way, couldn't it?"

  "He's counting on the pandemonium at the police station to cover a getaway." She looked at her watch. "We've got thirty minutes, tops. She may have been gagged or drugged and unable to respond. We'll break up and go through every room."

  They went in different directions, the girls with their dad and his machete, Katy with Gabe and her Glock. Katy quietly opened doors, went through closets and turned on lights. With time running out, and her search of guest and crew cabins showing nothing, she and Gabe went to the lowest level and to the heavily insulated engine room.

  "This would be the perfect place to hide Leila," Katy said, switching on a light. "No one could hear her scream for help."

  There was a metal grate walkway down the middle of the room with engines, lockers and work benches on both sides. Katy had Gabe wait by the door at the opposite end of the room as she looked into lockers and under tables. She stepped off the metal grate and wove through the machinery, looking around and under conduits and pipes, softly calling her sister's name.

  About twenty feet away, next to some machinery, was a dark shape. She hurried the four yards until she was standing over what she thought might be a body under a pile of rugs. Instead, it was a lumpy pile of oily carpet. Picking up a corner, she pulled it up—exactly as advertised—two oily old carpets bunched together, but no Leila.

  She signaled to Gabe that the carpet didn't have Leila in it.

  Then she heard a break in the hum of the air conditioner and a hiccup in the pressurized compartment as the entry door opened.

  She waved a warning at Gabe and was relieved to see him quietly slip out the other exit, closing it be
hind him. She rolled herself under the dirty carpet, holding up a corner so she could peek out.

  Two men walked past her narrowed line of sight but all she could see were legs; one with long pants and huaraches and the muscular legs and sailing white shorts of Spencer's boat captain—Jeff, the rat, was her sister's kidnapper and he'd brought someone with him to pick up Spencer's get out of jail prize

  A hinge creaked open and the voices faded as they clanged down metal steps. Steps down? She'd completely forgotten about the bilge!

  Throwing off the smelly rugs, she scrambled up and removing her shoes, tiptoed over to look down the hole into the bilge. There would be more pumps below, watertight bulkheads against a breach to the hull and a good place hide Leila.

  Katy removed her gun from her jacket and quietly took the metal stairs down to what she hoped wasn't her sister's grave.

  A Mexican was down on his knees working at the knots of a rope holding the limp body of her sister to a post and Jeff stood by impatiently directing the other man's efforts.

  She pointed her Glock at them and shouted, "Stop right there! Put up your hands!"

  The two men whirled around. Jeff tensed when he saw the gun then relaxed. "I found this Mexican on the boat and when I questioned him, he admitted to holding this girl for ransom. I convinced him to let her go."

  Katy, never letting her gun waver, glanced at the wide-eyed Mexican cowering at the sight of her gun.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jeff reach behind him, grab a length of rusty chain and throw it at her legs. She tried to jump out of the way, but a few links caught her ankle, knocking her to the floor. When Jeff made a dive for her gun a large foot kicked it away and out of his reach

  She looked up. Gabe. He offered Katy a hand up while Fred stepped around them and planted the tip of his machete at Jeff's forehead. "Give me a reason and I'll gladly slice you in two, you scumbag."

  Katy went to her sister and kneeled down. She called over her shoulder to the others. "She's okay!"

  Leila was groggy, but awake. She put up a hand to the back of her head and winced. "Where's the bastard that clocked me?"