Corina gazed toward the back rooms.
“I was hired to search for a missing woman,” William said. “Her name is Rene Sterling. She’s seventeen. Heard of her?”
Corina nodded. “That story made the rounds. But it was a little while ago. Two weeks?”
“Her father — he’s in business with Sausa — went to Marshal Cohen and asked for private investigators. I’m one of those investigators. You know Cohen?”
“I’ve seen him at some of the mayoral events. And during human trafficking awareness week. He’s also on the crime-watch committee. I am too,” she said in a small voice. “We meet a few times a year. Mostly it’s emails. I didn’t think it amounted to much.”
William slid the gun back in his waistband. “These men hired by Sausa, this private police, they’re going to try and get rid of the evidence now.”
“You mean those girls.”
“Yes. And me. And anyone else who knows what Sausa is doing. There’s a chance no one will know, or no one will do anything even if they know, but I don’t think he’s willing to take that risk.”
His mind turned to the woman in the wheelchair. Arnold Sterling claimed that Isabella had been looking into him, suspicious. Isabella might’ve known about David Sausa, and what was happening here. And that it had come to involve Rene.
Sterling knew it involved Rene, too. He’d wound up caught in the middle, trying to retrieve his daughter and protect his interests at the same time. Had he known the full extent of what Sausa was doing? Sterling had his own guards accompanying him at the resort — maybe he was aware they were compensated with young females, but did he know Sausa had been planning to rape Nicole? Or others?
William took out Sterling’s phone. To his dismay, he found it had gotten wet and become inoperable. He kept it anyway, thinking that the information it contained could still be intact.
The women needed to get somewhere secure. Off the island, into safe hands, and receive proper medical attention. Maybe Isabella could help, but William was reluctant to trust anyone.
It was a dark world, and getting darker all the time.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
When Mateo arrived, William changed plans.
“We’re going to wait it out here for the night,” he said. “We’re too vulnerable out on the road. Here we’re relatively safe. And we’ve got a good view on things.”
Corina brought the women blankets and pillows. Funi’s bleeding had stopped, but she was pale and breathing shallow. She needed blood and they would leave at first light to get her help.
Corina had fetched the handgun from her bungalow and handed it off to Julio, who knew how to use one. They agreed to take watch shifts, Julio up first. William didn’t think he’d sleep, exhausted as he was.
They turned the lights low and William stretched out on an exercise mat beside the pool, inhaling the chlorine-scented air. His mind turned to the shooter on the beach. It could have been one of the militia, but he still didn’t think so.
His eyelids were heavy. Julio sat facing the door and windows to the east. William glimpsed figures in the distance, through the trees, moving away from the bar, and tensed. The celebration was winding down and guests were turning in for the night.
The music ended and the place fell quiet, just the pump burbling in the pool.
* * *
Someone shook him awake. William glanced up at Julio, then at his watch. It was three a.m.
His muscles were stiff, his head aching. Trading places with Julio, he searched the reception area for the medical supplies. He found a bottle of aspirin and shook two out. He thought better of it, shook out two more.
Mateo rose from his mat by the steam room door and ambled over to William, his long arms and legs resembling a scarecrow in the dark. In another life, William thought, Mateo could be a star basketball player. He had the form and the agility.
They took up two stools beside the desk which were uncomfortable, but helped keep William alert. His gun rested on his thigh, one shot left in the magazine, one in the chamber. Julio had Corina’s gun beside him on the floor.
Mateo was quiet, his eyes shining in the gloom as he stared out at the amorphous jungle on the other side of the glass walls.
“Sorry about this,” William said.
“It’s okay. I understand.”
“Deon arrive today?”
They spoke softly, their voices just above whispering.
“Yes,” Mateo said, lighting up a little. “He did.”
“He’s okay? Everything’s okay?”
Mateo raised a long-fingered hand and seesawed it in the air.
“Tell me.”
Mateo shifted in his chair and thought for a moment. “Deon is just young, like I was. He’s not found his purpose yet.”
“Is he still smuggling, Mateo? He’s doing something. Maybe he’s not diving for the drugs, but he’s involved. Sterling didn’t pick on him for no reason. Sterling believed his daughter got involved with something through Deon, or who he might be tied to. Is he working for Sausa?”
“I don’t know.”
“Come on, Mateo. You grew up here. You’ve lived on the Bay Islands all your life. If anyone knows what’s going on, you do.”
“I don’t know,” he repeated.
“How about Booth? Do you know a man named Booth? The mayor’s cousin?”
Mateo didn’t say anything, but his eyes flashed recognition.
“I left him bleeding in a cabin not far from here. Calle Eighteen have their own drugs and guns, but getting them onto the island can be tricky and Booth is supplying for David Sausa. What I think is that the mainland has been gang turf for a long time. But Sausa has really incentivized Calle Eighteen to come to the islands. Gain territory their rivals don’t have. You think?”
Mateo looked uneasy, but he maintained his story. “I don’t know, Mr. Chase. This island isn’t only under one man’s control. There are places right in Coxen Hole where a tourist can already find cocaine, heroin, guns . . .”
“Booth probably employs a lot of people. Even though the island is poorly policed, getting in guns can be tricky. So he uses locals, like your nephew.”
Mateo just looked away and William let it rest. He switched subjects. There was still a chance Mateo was compromised, especially if his kin was involved. “What do you know about me, Mateo?”
“You? Only what you’ve told me. You’re with Samaritan’s Purse. But I don’t think that is true. You’re from New York, USA.”
“That’s all? Cohen, or someone, didn’t tell you more?”
“No, sir. I don’t know anything about you.”
“Has anyone threatened you?”
At last Mateo faced William directly and stared into his eyes. “I’m not involved. Maybe Deon is, but I’m not.”
William decided to trust Mateo. He didn’t have any evidence against him, only suspicion.
“What do you think, Mateo? Where can we keep these women safe until I figure things out?”
“They will be safe on Laru Beya,” he said, as if he’d already been considering it. “We can have Mr. Cohen charter them a boat, keep them there for as long as they need.”
“What they need is a doctor. Then they need to get home. Back to their families,” William said.
“Yes. But the airport here can be dangerous.”
William watched the shifting, dark jungle. “Okay. We’ll take them to Cohen.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The rising sun blazed through the vegetation, dew evaporating like smoke.
The lock opened on the front door and William jumped. Corina came in, looking tired, but determined. “I have to open up for the day,” she said. It was just before seven a.m. He’d managed to get one more hour of sleep.
William roused the sleeping women. “We need to go.” They groaned in protest but stretched and rallied. He checked on Nicole, noting how her pupils had shrunk to normal. Funi’s color was still sallow, but her eyes had spirit.
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“When do we eat?” she said.
Breakfast arrived a few minutes later, thanks to Corina. All the women ate with gusto. William’s stomach rumbled as he wolfed down some eggs and fruit. Afterwards they said their goodbyes, but Julio wanted to come along. “It’s my day off,” he said. “I was going to fish, but I’d rather help you.”
William called Hanna as they had arranged. She was in Thomas Marcotti’s room and reported that everyone was well. There were no extensive injuries, and the woman who’d scraped her leg had stopped complaining and fallen asleep thanks to some Tylenol P.M.
“Everyone’s too worried to leave,” Hanna said. “There are bodies out there. Someone washed up on the beach.”
William recalled shooting Sausa’s guard. The dead were lying all over the place back at the Royal Playa resort. “Have you spoken to the police?”
“Yes. Mr. Marcotti did. They’ll be here within the hour. They’ve notified the national police, he said. DNIC.”
“You’ve got to get out of there.”
“We’re registered guests. They’ll go down the list. I can’t run.”
“Hanna . . .” William said. He stepped away from the group gathered by the spa pool. “You know what it’s like. They’ll arrest everybody. I’m coming back for you. Start up through the national park. We’ll meet you at the end of Old Port Royal road.”
“I can’t. I’ll tell them I don’t know where you are. My papers are good. I’m just a guest here. You were too, with Samaritan’s. When the shooting happened, you ran into the woods. The way it looks out there, they all killed each other. Sterling is gone. It looks like drugs and organized crime, nothing to do with you or me. I’ll give my statement; I was in my room, heard shots, then helped the other guests after it was over. And that’s it. You need to get those girls safe. That’s the priority.”
“I think you need to get out while there’s still time to—”
“I can see them. They’re coming across the water. Roatán police. Who was the officer you spoke with?”
“Conchella.” He rubbed a hand over his face.
“Okay. The planned wreck is at two this afternoon, as scheduled, Marcotti says. There’s going to be hundreds of people there. What if Sausa shows up?”
“With all that’s happened? You think he would?”
She let the question hang a moment. “He might. It could cause more of a scene for him to run now, or even cancel the wreck. All he knows is you, right? You’re who he saw last night. He leaves and what? Everybody starts asking questions.”
Shit, it was a mess. William walked further away, to the deep end of the pool. “Last night, there was a man . . . sound suppressor on the weapon. Pretty accurate shot for as far away and as dark as it was — he took out our engine.”
“A pro?”
“I think so. You need to talk to Lazard if you can. Ask him . . . I dunno. Try to speak to him direct. Get a feel.”
“What are you thinking?”
“I’m not sure. Listen, I’m coming for you.”
“William . . .”
He hung up. It was time to leave.
* * *
They hustled alongside the big beach. Guests who were out for a morning stroll cast curious glances. William imagined how his group might look; a tall Garifuna man, a muscular Latino bouncer, three young women of varying nationalities, and a white man with a scarred face.
At the citrus orchard they picked up Paya Bay Road, where Mateo had parked. Julio’s vehicle was further away in small employee lot, a tiny Mitsubishi pickup truck that sagged to the ground when he got behind the wheel.
Paya Bay Road led to Carretera Principal. They were back in familiar territory. So far, no police road blocks. William figured the local police were busy at Royal Playa Resort for the time being. Soon, though, roadblocks could be erected.
Mateo drove them through Politilly Bight and down into French Cay, Julio trailing in the pickup.
Finally, the young women started talking. Funi, he knew, was a white South African, a runaway smuggled to Honduras.
Emma was Mayan, from Guatemala. Her family had fled their home when followers of General Pérez Molina tried to reinvigorate the Ríos Montt program of mass murder against the Mayan population. Emma had followed the migrant route north to Mexico, but she was captured and sold along the way. As she tried to relay the details, her eyes fogged with tears and she could only look out the window.
Nicole was the American. She was from Palo Alto, California and planning on attending Pepperdine University in the fall. She’d left home for the summer to back pack in Central America. She’d been staying in Roatán with her boyfriend Korey.
William pictured the young man sitting next to Rene in scuba gear, his dark curls and goatee.
“Korey was the man I saw you with?” William asked. “The night that woman in the tan car drove you to David Sausa’s house?”
Nicole nodded. “Alexandra pays him.”
So Alexandra was definitely the woman from the café. And the kid with the dark curls was Korey.
“She pays him? To do what?”
“We were out of money,” Nicole said. “Korey found someone to sell him drugs. He blew all of our money. Didn’t have enough to change our tickets to fly out of Roatán.”
“You didn’t want to call your parents?”
“My mother is sick. And my father hates Korey. I don’t know . . . it was stupid. I just went along. I should have known better.”
William wanted to understand. “So . . .”
“So, this guy was supposed to help us. David.”
“David Sausa.”
“Yeah. Scumbag.” Anger burned in her eyes. “Alexandra said he had lots of money, he could get us what we needed, send us home.”
“When I saw you, you were coming from the mainland, getting off the ferry . . .”
“He was supposed to just need our help with a couple of things. It was weird, but, you know, I went along. Korey kept telling me it was cool. You know, ‘It’s cool, it’s cool, babe; you’ve got to give a little to get a little.’ Then we’re on the ferry and Korey’s snorting some shit, and I’m nervous about everything, so he gives me something. Says, ‘Take this. It’s alright.’ He gave me ecstasy, I think. Maybe something else. I felt numb; I passed out a few times. I’ve never had ecstasy like that.” She glanced at the other women. William thought what she was given might’ve been more along the lines of fentanyl, a powerful synthetic opiate.
Nicole said, “Back home Korey used, you know, the pills . . . ?”
“Opioids.”
“Yeah. He’s got an opioid problem.” She fell silent, turning to the window.
William sat back, giving them all a minute. It was like a web. Sausa and Alexandra spun the sticky fibers. Whoever wandered in was doomed. And they were connected to the network of human trafficking, picking up women like Funi and Emma, runaways and refugees. Or even Americans, in need of money, kids like Korey nosing out the drugs.
And the traffickers were doing it all while evading any detection by the national police.
Still, there had to be more. It was one thing to capture their victims by happenstance. But he had a feeling there was more premeditation. It felt like an organized operation, not fly by night. Like the recruitment of sex slaves.
He turned back to Nicole. “Did you meet a girl named Rene?”
“Rene? I don’t think so. She was American?”
“Yeah. What about Korey? He ever talk about an American girl named Rene? I have a picture of him with her before a scuba dive.”
In her email to her father, Rene had written, some of the people I’ve met are doing some work locally.
“You have a picture of Korey?” Nicole sat up and leaned forward.
“That’s how I identified him getting off the ferry. Why I followed you.”
“I don’t dive, or any of that. I’m scared of it. Korey did it a few times while we were here.”
“Where did you hang out
at night? Where did you go?”
“We didn’t have any money. At first we stayed at the Clarion. But then we slept on the beach. Cops ran us off after the third night, said it was dangerous. Korey left me one night. I woke up and he was gone. Afterwards he came back and said he’d found someone who could help us. I never met David, though, in person. Not until the night . . . you know . . . you came.”
The picture was becoming a little clearer. As Mateo drove them past Mahogany Bay, where surfer-German Jodi Penninger had his dive school, William thought of Korey and Rene meeting, diving, talking about life in Roatán. Maybe Korey shared his predicament. Told Rene that he and his girlfriend Nicole were broke. He could’ve mentioned Alexandra, and what they were doing to raise money and go home. Or, it was Deon who somehow influenced Rene, led her to wherever she was.
“And David Sausa took you from the hospital?”
Nicole shook her head, tears welling up. “Alexandra did.”
“No one tried to stop her?”
“I went with her because . . . I didn’t know what else to do.” She lowered her head, as if ashamed.
William thought with such lax policing, even hospitals letting anyone come in and abscond with a patient, Rene Sterling could really be anywhere. But he didn’t think so. He was beginning to think she was close.
Nicole continued to share her story, but was interrupted by Funi.
The girl from South Africa was beginning to convulse in the seat, her eyes rolling up to the whites.
* * *
They came barreling into the Grand Roatán Resort. The parking lot was loaded. It was Saturday morning and more guests had apparently arrived the day before, a busy weekend ahead. Several people looked on, stunned, as they ripped past the main entrance and Mateo took a narrow road around back.
In the back seat, Funi continued to spasm, her teeth clenched, limbs flailing. She’d lost too much blood and was in hypovolemic shock. Nicole and Funi tried to hold her still.
Titan Trilogy 3.5-Black Soul Page 16
