The Truth Will Drop: Carter Peterson Mystery Series Book 5

by Al Boudreau

  * * *

  “Sarah,” I called out. No response. I went below and gently rubbed her shoulder. “Sarah, wake up.”

  “Wha---” She shot up into a sitting position as if a scorpion had stung the back of her neck.

  “Sorry. It’s OK,” I said as I massaged her shoulder. “It’s time. Take a minute or two to get your bearings, then come up. The Sandakan Sun, three of Moray’s tugs, and a Homeland patrol boat are headed our way. They’re about ten minutes out.”

  “What?” she asked, throwing the covers off and scrambling to get dressed. “How---why are they so early?”

  “Actually, they’re right on schedule.”

  Sarah snatched her cell phone off from the shelf. “What? It’s 4:48 already? Why didn’t you wake me? You were supposed to wake me, Carter. To do my shifts.”

  “C’mon, c’mon … please. We need all hands on deck,” I said as I headed back up. “You’ll have plenty of time to chew me out once we’re both at our stations.”

  I sat back down in the captain’s chair---still warm from my butt being in it, on and off, for the past 10 hours---and stared at my tablet. Five boat-shaped blips, one large, the other four small, slowly changed position on the digital map as they made their way down the blue snake that represented the Piscataqua River.

  The blips appeared by way of electronic tracking devices, black boxes which sent signals to an automatic identification system, or AIS. I’d spent nearly an hour and a half locating and disabling Juneau’s black box in order to make us less visible to the world.

  Sarah rested her chin on my shoulder. “That’s them, huh?”

  “Yep. The one out in front belongs to Homeland. Good chance we’ll catch sight of them first. They’ll likely sweep the area before that ship gets close. That’s when we’ll be most vulnerable.”

  “What do you mean?” Sarah asked. “You’re thinking they might come over here?”

  “No way of knowing. We’ve done all we could do to make ourselves blend in, but if they don’t like what they see, they’ll be over.”

  “What then? Can they come on the boat?”

  “Yep. If we see them making a beeline for us, we’ll have to take this equipment down and stash it in the storage locker.”

  “They won’t know we’re on the boat if we keep quiet and stay out of sight, right?” Sarah asked.

  “Depends. They may have thermal imaging scopes on board. If so, they’ll be able to see our silhouettes as plain as day.”

  “OK, you’re freaking me out a little bit. Why didn’t you tell me all of this before?”

  “Uh … because I didn’t want to freak you out.”

  “Carter.”

  “Look, don’t over think it. We have a job to do. We’ve taken every possible precaution. What’s going to happen will happen. If they board the boat, we’ll deal with it.”

  “What if they find all this fancy equipment? What are you going to tell them, then?”

  I turned to her and smiled. “That we’re avid bird watchers.”

  Sarah shook her head and began massaging her temples. She let go a sigh and said, “OK. Best case scenario. Homeland leaves us alone while the tugs and ship do their thing. How are we going to record any useful footage? It’s still pitch black out there.”

  “Remember, it took Moray about two and a half hours to secure Sibu, that freighter we watched them bring in the other day. And, the footage we watched of Frenchie getting hit with that crate was shot after the Sandakan Sun was completely secured. We’ll be well into the daylight hours by the time we need to record any of the action.”

  “Got it,” Sarah said.

  “I’m thinking we’re going to see some interesting activity this morning.”

  “What makes you think so?”

  “The fact that Sibu had no Homeland escort the other day, but the Sandakan Sun has one now. Sister ships, hauling the same cargo. Why favor one over the other?”

  “Good point,” she replied.

  “There has to be a solid reason. Probably an activity deemed high priority by someone who’s in a position to make a call like that.”

  “You know, when you say things like that … it makes me think we might be into something we shouldn’t be messing with.”

  I didn’t have the luxury of contemplating Sarah’s statement too deeply right now. The blip representing the Homeland boat began moving across the screen at a pace much faster than the others. “Soon to find out,” I said after looking out the window.

  I pointed down river where rapid flashes of blue light could be seen reflecting off from trees and buildings, well over a mile away.

  Fifteen seconds later the patrol boat came into view.

  “Whoa, it looks like they’re really flying,” Sarah said, the craft maintaining a heading which kept them centered between the channel markers.

  “Forty-five miles an hour, according to this tracking program.”

  “Look. They just turned on their flood lights,” she said.

  “Yep. Sweeping the dock before they bring that ship in. Grab your laptop and follow me.” The two of us headed below, computers in hand. I closed the bulkhead door and climbed onto the v-berth. “Lie down next to me. If they scan Juneau using a thermal imaging scope, it’ll look like we’re sleeping.”

  We remained motionless while staring at the two screens, the tracking program on one, and a live video feed of the patrol boat on the other. I couldn’t tell if Sarah was scared, intensely focused, or a combination of the two, but she didn’t utter a single word as the Homeland Security vessel initiated a wide turn then maintained its sweeping arc---it’s new course bound to bring it directly toward Juneau.

  Chapter 16

  My attention was diverted from the computer screens as a combination of bright white and flashing blue light found its way through the louvers in the bulkhead door, illuminating the space just enough to see the sheer panic on Sarah’s face.

  “The equipment. We need to get that stuff out of sight,” Sarah insisted.

  I looked back down at the computers. The screen with the live feed had gone completely white due to the blinding search beams aimed at Juneau. Fortunately, the tracking program continued to function as expected. “Sit tight.”

  “What?” she shot back in whisper scream fashion. “Are you crazy, Carter? We’re gonna get bagged, for sure.”

  I shook my head. “Look at the data on the tracker. Their speed hasn’t changed one iota. They’re going to blow right past us.”

  Sarah stopped watching the screens and shut her eyes tight, the singing of the Safe Boat Defender’s triple props now felt as much as heard while the outboard motors maintained the craft’s still constant speed of 45 mph.

  Juneau began rocking---at about the same moment we regained a visual of Homeland’s craft on our surveillance system. They’d switched off their spotlights, allowing me to see the patrol boat fading into the distance.

  We were in the clear.

  I reached over and put my hand on top of Sarah’s.

  “No!” Sarah cried out, flinching as if she’d just been stunned with a cattle prod. “Why? You really are trying to scare me to death, aren’t you?”

  “Looks like we passed muster. The Homeland boys are heading back down river toward the Sandakan Sun.”

  “I can’t take too many more episodes like that one, Carter. It’s not good for my health,” she said, still lying motionless.

  “It’s OK. You can move around now.”

  Sarah sat up, her breathing sounding as if she were about to hyperventilate.

  “Slow, easy breaths,” I said while rubbing her back.

  “Did you know they were going to do that?”

  “Do what? Check us out? Sure, I had an idea they might.”

  “Then tell me this. Did you deliberately leave that piece of information out of our discussion when we were planning this stakeout? Honest answer.”

  “Deliberately? No. I didn’t think I had to get into the finer points of
surveillance work with you. We’ve done enough of these stints for you to realize that stakeouts consist of ninety-nine percent boredom and one percent sheer terror.”

  “Were you scared?”

  “A little … and a little is healthy. Keeps you sharp.” I leaned over and kissed her forehead. “My guess is they chose not to over-scrutinize this boat because you did such a good job tinting the windows.”

  “Now you’re just patronizing me,” Sarah said.

  “No, I’m not. Every move we make in order to prepare for a case matters. A lot. All I’m saying is your role is crucial.”

  Sarah let go a sigh of relief and gave me a smile. “Yeah, well … we do make a pretty good team.”

  “Yep. And, here comes the reason we’re doing all of this,” I said as the massive bow of the Malaysian freighter Sandakan Sun appeared, lights ablaze as Moray Towing guided the behemoth toward the spot it would spend the next two days. “Hand me that razor scraper, would you, please?”

  Sarah obliged. “What on earth are you going to do with that?”

  I slid around behind her to the back corner of the cabin, where I’d set up the gyro-based video camera, and carefully scribed a circle in the window film. Once satisfied, I scraped with my thumbnail until I was able to peel the dark material away from the area in front of the telescopic lens. “There. Now we can get a crystal clear recording of whatever ends up taking place across the water.”

  “Nice,” Sarah said while monitoring our surroundings. “I take it we had no unwanted visitors while I was asleep.”

  “Not a one. Let’s hope it stays that way until we’re through.”

  “Where do you want me to be during the action?”

  I tapped the back of the captain’s chair. “Let’s have you sit here. I’m going to stay on my feet. I may need to change camera angles, and such. You can get up and move around, if need be. Just let me know beforehand, so we’re not tripping all over one another.”

  “Works for me,” Sarah said as she got into position.

  “Hungry?” I asked. “Probably ought to eat something now, before the action starts.”

  “I am, actually. I wouldn’t mind some of that trail mix. And a bottle of water.”

  “Stay put. I’ll get them for you.” I went below, grabbed the last few pieces of equipment and accessories, along with our bag of snacks, and brought them up.

  “To this day, I’m in awe of the fact a steel structure like that ship can float,” Sarah said as I returned with her breakfast.

  “Yep. I fully understand how and why it works, but it still amazes me, too.”

  Sarah munched on her breakfast as I fine-tuned the adjustment of our electronics. This was the most unique surveillance job I’d been on, and I’d conducted hundreds. I leaned back against the bulkhead and tried to imagine living on a boat like Juneau, full-time. I knew folks who couldn’t say enough wonderful things about living on the water … but for my nickel, I’d need a much bigger boat than this one to ensure I’d feel anything but claustrophobic.

  “I love the toot-toots of the tugboats,” Sarah said as the flotilla approached.

  I nodded. “I’m sure most people find their signals charming for a while. But, I’d be willing to bet that if you asked the homeowners who own this dock how they feel about the tugs and the overall noise they make, most would tell you it’s not exactly one of their joys in life.”

  “Uh-huh. Guess if I lived here I’d get sick of it after a while, too.”

  * * *

  Here we sat, the bulk of our snacks consumed, watching and waiting for something---anything---out of the ordinary to happen. So far, aside from the addition of Homeland Security’s flashing blue lights, the docking of the Sandakan Sun was a virtual instant replay of its sister ship Sibu’s arrival two days ago.

  There was, however, a silver lining. We hadn’t expected to see much in the early going. Any action that might offer us clues about Frenchie Taylor’s death would take place at the end of the docking process. The sky was slowly turning from black to pink now, the new day giving us our first opportunity to see detail through our high-powered binoculars.

  I raised the optics to my face and began to adjust focus when Sarah grabbed my elbow.

  “Carter, there’s someone out there,” she said. “Far end of the field.”

  I walked over behind her to take a peek at the video feed, then turned and trained my binoculars on the far end of the association’s common area. “That’s Tom, the neighbor guy from yesterday. Shouldn’t be a factor. He’s out walking his dog, Cleo. Just keep an eye on them. If they keep coming, let me know when they reach the head of the dock.”

  “Got it,” Sarah said. “Hey, looks like a couple of Moray’s tugs are heading out.”

  I turned back toward the river and raised my binoculars. Sure enough, two of the three vessels that had assisted the freighter were leaving. I shifted my focus to the remaining tugboat, at which point I made a thought-provoking discovery: it was the Euginia Moray, the same vessel Don Taylor worked aboard.

  Now, it wasn’t that I found the Euginia Moray’s presence particularly significant during this operation---it was, after all, Moray’s #1 vessel. It was the unexpected detail I saw on board that had my head spinning. “Sarah, do you remember the conversation we had with Carol Taylor last Monday? The day we agreed to take her case.”

  “Uh-huh. What about it?”

  “What, exactly, did she tell us about her husband’s schedule?”

  “Carol said that Don works Sunday to Saturday,” Sarah replied. “And, if I remember right, that he lives on the tug all week long … and alternates, one week on and one week off. Why do you ask?”

  “OK, that’s my recollection of the conversation, too. So, let me ask you this: did we not see her husband out on the deck of the Euginia Moray when we were standing on her property last Wednesday?”

  “Yes, that’s what she said when the tug went rumbling by. Carter, are you going to fill me in as to why you’re asking me all these questions, or what?”

  “Sure. Today’s Sunday, right? So, why am I seeing Don Taylor standing out on the bow of the Euginia Moray?”

  Chapter 17

  Sarah grabbed the second pair of binoculars and adjusted them. “Yeah, it definitely looks like Don Taylor out there on the Euginia Moray, but can we really draw any conclusions from that fact? Could be he’s just filling in for someone.”

  “Maybe,” I said. “But, what about the fact this Homeland boat I’m looking at only has two men on board, one of whom is Jason Taylor?”

  “What?”

  “Yep. I’ve stared at the faces of Don and Jason Taylor, posing in that father and son photo, long enough to be able to pick either of them out of a lineup. It’s Jason, all right.”

  “Wow. This is getting interesting,” Sarah said. “We’ve got the Sandakan Sun, both Taylors, and a Homeland Security vessel with one less man on board than there should be.”

  I swiveled the video recorder around to capture the Homeland vessel. “I’m going to do my best to get a close-up of the second Homeland guy’s face. Once we have a recording, maybe we can figure out who he is.”

  “Why? Do you think there’s something fishy going on there?” Sarah asked.

  “Not sure, but there are enough things off about what we’re seeing to give me pause. The more we know about all the players, the better.”

  “The tug,” Sarah blurted out. “Look at the tug. And the freighter. There’s a man standing at the rail with a crate. The crate looks identical to the one in the video with Frenchie.”

  I pivoted the recorder back around to capture the action, then adjusted my binoculars. “Looks like the same guy, too. Oh … there it goes. He just dropped the crate down onto the tug’s deck.”

  “There goes the tug,” Sarah added. “It’s backing away from the ship.”

  “Yep. Looks like Don Taylor is pushing the crate toward the wheelhouse, just like the guy did after Frenchie got hit.” I turned my fo
cus back to the Homeland vessel.

  It wasn’t good.

  “Quick, grab the bags. We need to get out of here. Fast.”

  Sarah jumped out of the Captain’s chair and headed below. “What’s happening?” she called out from the v-berth.

  I began yanking cords out of the electronics then paused to take another look. Unfortunately, I hadn’t been mistaken. Jason Taylor had a thermal imaging scope trained on Juneau, his jaw moving as if he were barking out orders.

  The sudden churning of water behind the Safe Boat Defender told me all I needed to know as Sarah tossed both bags on the floor next to me.

  I snatched the most important pieces of electronics, piled them into the first bag, and zipped it shut. “Here. Take the keys, take this bag, and run. I’ll be right behind you. If I’m not in sight by the time you get to the car, fire it up and get out of here.”

  “I can’t---”

  “Go. Now.” I flung the glass door open.

  Sarah sprang into action as I fumbled with the remainder of our equipment and belongings. I took a quick look around before checking the river again. Jason Taylor and the Homeland vessel had closed the gap between us by about half, spray flying off the hull as they approached.

  I didn’t have much time.

  I turned and darted out to the aft deck, climbing up onto the dock while making a conscious effort not to look back. Instinct kept goading me to run, but Homeland was fairly close to shore by now. I didn’t want to give Taylor a reason to become overzealous and start firing that deck mounted destroyer of his.

  It was almost low tide. If I could get myself down the long dock and reach the common area before he reached the T-section, he’d have no line of sight to track my movements.

  I heard the faint echo of an amplified voice, but the wind was gusting pretty hard right now, making it nearly impossible to figure out what was being said. I kept going, jaw clenched, doing my best to mentally prepare myself for the possibility I was going to have another run-in with a government agency that didn’t take multiple encounters with the same individuals lightly.