“Christ! I haven’t even showered yet.”
“You showered yesterday, didn’t you?”
I nodded an affirmation. What the hell was I suppose to do?
Sometime later, I slipped off the bed, took the binoculars, and still naked, strolled over to the bay window. I focussed the glasses on the yacht. It was still deserted. I wondered whether I wasn’t making a mistake. Maybe they had some other means of leaving the island. Surely, they would not hang around after the previous day’s events. Where would they be staying on the island? They wouldn’t return to the Montrose place. I turned round and looked at Maria. She had fallen asleep again.
I showered and slipped my still slightly damp and dirty clothes on for a second time. I walked to the building next door, which housed a general dealer’s store. This was still barricaded against the storm, but at least the front door was open. I bought a few toiletries, underwear, and a pair of cotton slacks and shirt. I also found a decent pair of running shoes.
Once upstairs in the room I again studied the cruiser through the glasses. A dingy with a small outboard and two black men had just drawn up alongside. I didn’t recognize anybody.
Maria was getting dressed. Her clothes were dry, as she had hung them in front a small fan the night before.
“Somebody’s aboard the boat,” I said.
She came over and took the binoculars from me.
“There are only two of them. They look like island people.”
I had to agree. They probably were there to inspect the boat for damage and clean up after the storm.
“Well, let’s keep an eye on it. Come; let’s find some breakfast, I’m bloody starving.”
We found Christopher and Bess in the dining room.
We all were hungry and opted for the Breakfast Special, a full English breakfast that even included kidneys and savoury mince.
We had just left the dining room when Whittle’s Land Rover drew up.
“You seem to have recovered,” he smiled.
“Yes, it’s amazing what sleep and a hot shower can do,” I replied.
“We’re on our way to the hotel.” He said.
“Aren’t you looking for Carruthers and Trichardt?” I asked making a show of expressing disappointment.
“Why should I be looking for them? What have they done? You still don’t seem to understand - I’ve no charge and no evidence. Did you see either of them at the hotel? No, you didn’t, so who says they had anything to do with it? What I have to do is find the actual murderers and their weapons.”
The man was pissing me off.
”You’re being obstructive. You know perfectly well that they’re involved!” I said exasperated.
“I have no evidence, so don’t tell me how to do my job.” He spun round and walked back to the Land Rover. As he was about to climb in the vehicle, he turned back to me. “Don’t you go trying anything on your own.” He looked at Christopher. “That goes for you as well. I’ll arrest both of you and hold you until this is cleared up, even if it takes a year. Capisce?”
Neither of us replied. With a jerk, the Land Rover drove off.
“Fuckin’ cops,” Christopher hissed.
I looked at Christopher questioningly.
“Chris, what are we going to do if these people get on that boat and try and leave the island?”
“It’s simple - we can’t let them leave.”
“How’re we going to stop them?”
He was silent for a few seconds, and then smiled.
“Let me phone Johnnie and his Dad. I’ll tell them what’s happened. Maybe they can help.”
He went back into the hotel to find out if the phones were working. He was gone for about twenty minutes and then emerged and joined me on the porch. He was grinning.
“The sea is still wild but Bottom Bay is on the leeside of the island, it’s not nearly as bad. They’re going to bring the “Dream Island” around to this side. They say they’ve done the engines and it needs a trial run.”
Christopher jerked his head towards the cruiser in the lagoon.
“If those bastards think they’re going to get away on that, they better think again. I’m going to get Carruthers and whoever else was responsible for what happened - we’ve don’t even have our hotel anymore. To top it all, the bloody place was not insured. Bess stopped paying the premiums months ago. I can’t let them get away with that. ”
I realized the enormity of the loss they had suffered because of Maria and me. I needed to discuss that with my friends.
Johnnie and John Senior stepped out of the dingy onto the coral gravel shore at Bottom Bay. The sun had just set.
“Gawd!” the old man said. “That was hairy. It was okay on the other side but once we rounded West End Point I thought we were in the Himalayas, the bleeding waves were so enormous, there’s still a helluva sea running.” He turned round and looked out into the lagoon and pointed at the cruiser. “I suppose that the boat you’re watching. Don’t worry, I know her, she’s the “Moby Dick”, we’re bigger and faster than her.”
I took him by the arm. “Come inside. Have a drink and join us for supper. I’m paying - anyway I still owe you a bundle for all your help.”
We walked into the dining room. Bess, Maria, and Christopher were already seated. They all smiled on seeing the two new arrivals.
Christopher jumped up. “Look what we’ve got here! The bloody Campbell’s have arrived.” There were joyous greetings all round.
Halfway through the meal John Senior took a trip to the front of the hotel. He smiled as he sat down and reported to us.
“That “Moby Dick” is being prepared for departure. I was watching it. The crew brought a few drums out on a dingy and are now busy refuelling her. You won’t see them from here; they got their dingy tied to the other of the yacht.”
Everybody stopped eating, Christopher and I looked at each other.
“You never saw anybody else come aboard?” Christopher asked. John Senior shook his head.
“I think that if they’re planning to leave they’ll wait till daybreak. Now is not a good idea; the tide is on its way out; the cross-currents are vicious,” the old man said.
I looked at John Senior. “What’s your fuel situation?”
He smiled. “We could go to Grand Cayman and back and do it again and again.”
“I think the men should sleep aboard the “Dream Island”. They’re obviously getting ready to depart at a moment’s notice. The women can stay her,” Christopher said.
I wasn’t going to have that; Maria was not to be left behind. If we were lucky enough to do what we set out to do, I was not going to return to Cayman Brac or Grand Cayman.
“Sorry friend, I’m taking Maria with me. Don’t argue; that’s final,” I said testily.
He remained silent biting his lip looking at Maria.
“Peter’s right, I’m going with, no matter what,” she insisted.
“And I’m also going with you. That was my hotel!” Bess protested.
“Okay,” Christopher said shrugging his shoulders.
We took everything we had out to the cruiser, needing to make two trips with the dingy.
I wondered whether the crew of the “Moby Dick” would associate the “Dream Island” with us - did they know enough to do so? I asked Christopher who spoke to Johnny and John Senior. Christopher waved me over.
“We think we should leave the island now and wait for their boat out at sea. The ocean’s calmed considerably.”
“How the hell are we going to know they’re making a move?” I asked.
“We’ve got radar. We make our way down to West End Point, drop anchor in the shelter of the headland and wait. We won’t miss their boat on the radar; they will be no more than a few miles away and
will believe they’re not being followed,” Johnny said.
It sounded like a good plan - at least we would not have to contend with Whittle. I was sure he was keeping a close eye on us - not that he believed we would initiate an attack on our own, but he probably thought Carruthers hadn’t finished with us. Also, he probably still believed he had a score to settle.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
John Senior was at the helm. The twin diesel engines rumbled, spewing blue smoke, they still cold. The electric winch whined as the anchor came aboard, the chain rattling through the huge steel eyes in the forward gunwale. With the engines barely idling, we made our way towards the break in the coral reef and as we closed with the gap, I got an idea of what the Campbells meant. The mouth was one enormous cauldron of foam, crosscurrent waves, and turbulent sea. As we entered this, I felt the engines speed up, the boat’s bow lifting as John Senior applied more power. We slammed into a few medium-sized cresting waves that thumped against the bow, the displaced water flying out sideways.
A few minutes later, we were out at sea. It was still rough and for a short while, I was forced to work at not throwing my recently eaten supper overboard. I looked at Maria - she didn’t look well either. However, after a short while we found our sea legs.
Doing a slow six to seven knots, we made our way towards West End Point leaving the “Moby Dick” still riding at anchor. Scattered cloud scudded past a near full yellow moon. It was too cold for just a shirt and I slid into my anorak. This hid the Glock stuck in my waistband. Johnny came to sit next to me on the bench that was affixed to the rear deck strake.
“If we see those two bastards on the cruiser and they open fire, how are we going to stop them?” I asked.
Johnny ignored my question and started a conversation on a very different tack.
“A couple of years ago, my Dad and I were seriously involved in smuggling. I regret this now, but we did handle a fair number of parcels of coke, marijuana and the other stuff. I mean, everybody did; it was that damn lucrative; you had to give it a shot - it was easy money. Of course, the Americans were going nuts and had the US Coast Guard running all over the Caribbean - they even had some deal with the Cayman Government. The British were trying to help them stop the drugs getting to the US, but it was the Americans who were the ones truly organized - even today their Coast Guard still has free access to Caymanian waters.”
He produced a bottle of rum from a locker, took a generous swig, and then held it out to me. Not my favourite drink but considering what had happened and could still happen it probably wasn’t a bad idea and I followed suit, taking two generous swallows before giving it back. It actually was good stuff; it burnt like fire on the way down and gave me a solid kick.
Johnny continued. “Anyway, occasionally things got out of hand. I mean, the Yanks were not adverse to opening fire if you did not heed their requests to heave to. You’ve to remember that it was not only the Caymanians but just about everybody else who owned a boat in the Antilles who was trying to get drugs to the States - the money was that good. You could make a year’s pay just doing one trip. Also, if you had a good load aboard some other smuggling gang would try and hi-jack it. If you weren’t fighting the cops, you fought each other. At times it was bloody mayhem.” He hesitated, and then said,” Hang on; I’ll be back in a moment.”
He disappeared into the cabin for a few minutes. He had left the bottle of rum so I took another swallow. He returned carrying a large reinforced green fibreglass box, about three feet by one foot by one foot. He placed it on the deck and opened the lid. I looked down to see the contents.
I couldn’t believe it. In green foam, there nestled a M72 LAW, a light anti-tank weapon, which is operated from the shoulder expelling a rocket-propelled grenade capable of penetrating eight inches of steel; it was still in pristine condition. You don’t find these babies just lying around. They are of American manufacture and they’re quite picky as to who gets to use them! This was a sophisticated piece of equipment. A Russian or Chinese 70mm RPG rocket launcher was primitive in comparison - the item I was looking at contained serious firepower.
“Jesus Christ!” I yelped.
He laughed. “You can say that again. You seem to have forgotten - I said that I would kill them. We’ve two of these. This’ll blow a hole through the cabin cruiser.”
Christopher lifted it out of its foam cocoon and placed the launch tube over his shoulder, flipping up the aiming device on top of the tube. He then squinted through the sight aiming at some imaginary target.
I was dumbstruck. “Where’d you get this?”
“Don’t ask. But, I need to tell you that the ‘Moby Dick’ was originally bought and brought to the Caymans to do nothing but smuggle coke and the likes. So, it’s highly likely that she could have something similar aboard,” he said warningly, also taking another swig.
This was a worry; suddenly I was visualizing a full-blown battle out here in the ocean.
He returned the weapon to its case and then got up to go back to the cabin.
“So, it’s important that we shoot before they do,” he said, his voice hard and unforgiving.
“What’s the range?” I asked.
“About two hundred yards at best.”
We knew that the ‘Moby Dick’ would have to come this way although it probably would be way out to sea by the time it got abeam of us. Where we were anchored we had the West End Point headland between Cotton Tree Bay and us and could not see the harbour on the radar screen, but the cruiser couldn’t leave the lagoon without us picking it up on radar no matter what course they chose.
John Senior gave the main cabin to the two women, the men sharing the fo’c’sle. He decided that the watch would be made up of two men, two on, and two off. I shared the first watch with Johnny.
Maria came out on deck carrying a thermos of coffee and two small aluminium cups. She sat on the bench next to me, poured me a cup of coffee, and handed it to me.
“Peter, you and I need to talk,” She said quietly.
I turned round to see if we were alone on the rear deck. The others were in the cabin; it was only John Senior who sat above on the flying bridge, too far away to overhear us.
I knew exactly what she wanted to talk about. Our relationship had reached what she thought was a critical stage - women don’t appreciate men leaving matters of the heart undecided. Over the last few days, we had revealed our innermost feelings and it was evident that she was well past the ‘sex for fun’ stage in our relationship and now believed it was time for more depth and commitment. My heart sank. I realized that I had made a few ill-timed statements. I could say that these were rash or ill conceived but that would be wrong - my timing had just been bad.
However, I didn’t think Maria’s timing was very good either, but I could not deny that my comments had implied a pledge of sorts.
“Yeah, you’re right; it’s probably time to talk,” I said realizing that she probably would read a degree of reluctance in my voice. I find things of the heart difficult to discuss especially when women set out to clinically dissect them. And I could see she now proposed to do just this. I tended to forget that it was more about the heart than the mind.
“What are we going to do?” she asked squeezing my arm affectionately. I could’ve given her a simple answer but doubted whether she would appreciate it at this stage.
“Well, we need to deal with Mr Trichardt first. We have to get him out of our lives once and for all. I think we were rash; we should never have taken his bloody money and diamonds. Sure, it was the perfect crime given the circumstances but now our lives are in danger - we’ve put ours and other lives in danger.”
“It’s going to be all right,” she whispered reassuringly.
“Okay, we seem to have found ourselves some assistance. Hell, at the moment, Christopher’s only desire is to kill both of them,
not that you can blame him.”
“I accept that,” she said quietly. “But where does that leave us afterwards? Are you going home and I back to the States and then maybe we see each other in six month’s time again?”
I realized that this woman wanted an answer with a commitment - now!
I took her face in my hands.
“Look, sweetheart, I do love you, but to ask me where this will all lead to is not fair. For all I know, I could lose this fight. Why think about it now? Wait until it’s done. But what I will say now is that I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“And Francine?”
Now that was a problem I’d avoided thinking about, although every now and then my conscience would remind me that it was still there waiting to be dealt with. I certainly did not want to appear callous or unfeeling but no matter how I tackled this, which is what everyone involved would interpret it to be. I would probably alienate my staff. I could see my partner Gavin with his implied sanctimonious attitude giving me that silent ‘you are the biggest shit on the planet’ rundown.
“I don’t know how I’m going to handle this. She’s a beautiful and wonderful woman and has been very good to me. She’s going to think I used her, which is probably right. God, I am committed to you, but don’t rush me. Can you live with that?” I asked.
She looked me in the eyes. I thought she was making sure I was being sincere.
“Yes, I’ll wait but when this is over, I’m not just going back to the States to wait.”
I realized that if I didn’t do what she wanted, she was sufficiently resolute to walk away and forget me, even if it hurt.
She’d just get on with her life. I knew how tough she was.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
It was four in the morning. I was on the flying bridge keeping lookout. Johnny sat in the main cabin, periodically staring into the hooded radar console to check whether the ‘Moby Dick’ had appeared.
The sea had not yet shrugged off the last vestiges of the storm, and there was still a strong swell running. The wind had reverted to its usual easterly trades, fresh but pleasant. A few clouds moved across the night sky, the almost full moon sending shafts of moonlight stabbing through the broken cloud, its reflection rippling on the sea. A light flashed from West End Point headland warning ships of the hazard the peninsula represented.
Diamonds Are But Stone Page 28
