3 Mango Bay (16 page)

CHAPTER FORTY THREE

“Walker, I owe you big time. I'd be dead if it wasn't for you stopping that day.

“
So I'll help you find the little dog. But maybe we could stop over to the Shell station and get us some beer first. My throat's a little parched from cooking the crystal. A cold beer would go down real good.”

Buck looked at me. I sighed and then nodded. Might as well get some beer for our new partner in crime.

It took us four minutes to get to the Shell station. The parking lot was nearly empty, so Buck pulled up near the front door. Removing the keys from the ignition, he turned to me and said, “You stay here with Eddie. I'll get the beer.”

“
Get Budweiser,” Eddie said. “And some beef jerky sticks, the spicy ones. And a lotto ticket.”

I just shook my head.

Buck went in and got a twelve pack of Budweiser and a handful of jerky sticks. He also got an eight pack of Zephyrhills water.

When he got back in the Jeep, he put the water in the backseat with me and gave the beer and jerky to Eddie.

Eddie started peeling the top off the twelve pack, but Buck stopped him. “Don't open it yet. Let's get someplace we won't be bothered.”

“Go to Quirk,” Eddie said. “Won't nobody bother us there.”

“
Quirk? What's that?”

“
It's the public library on Dearborn. You know where that is?”

“
I know where the library is,” Buck answered.

“
Go there and park around back. Nice and private.”

Eddie was right, the back parking lot behind the Elsie Quirk library building was empty. The library was closed, and no one else was around.

As soon as we pulled in, Eddie pulled a beer from the twelve pack, popped the top and took a long drink.

“
Oh man, that hits the spot. You boys want one?”

I shook my head. “Not me. Think I'll just stick with water.”

“Yeah,” said Buck. “Water sounds good.”

I pulled two bottles from the pack, handed one to Buck and kept one for myself.

The water was cold and felt good going down.

Buck took a long swallow, then turned to Eddie.

“Now Eddie, how about you tell us where the dog is. We need to get it back to its rightful owner.”

Eddie took another long draw from his beer, finishing off the can. He reached for another, but Buck stopped him.

“Not yet. First tell us where the dog is.”

Eddie looked longingly at the cold beers just out of his reach. “Palm Marina. That's where Darrell usually parks his van at night.

“If the dog's still in the van, that's where you'll find it.”

“
He works there? At the marina?” asked Buck.

“
No, he keeps his boat there. And he takes it out at night. Cruises around looking for things to steal.

“
Ever since he heard about bricks of pot floating in the bay, he's been going out there at night with a spotlight looking for them.

“
Says he's got some kind of tracker device that tells him where the packages are.”

Buck looked at me and nodded. We already knew why Darrell had visited Polly's trailer, the little black tracking device we found on her kitchen counter.

Buck took his hand off the beer and smiled at Eddie. “Have another one. Just keep the can out of sight.”

We pulled out of Quirk and headed toward Palm Marina. Like most places in Englewood, it was close by. Not more than three miles away.

Eddie had finished his second beer by the time we pulled in the marina parking lot. Buck didn't stop him when he reached for his third. Eddie pulled the tab on the can and was drinking it down fast.

Even though the marina facility was closed, the parking lot was a quarter full. Mostly pickup trucks belonging to fishermen who were still out on the water.

In the far corner of the lot sat a faded blue Chevy van.

Eddie pointed, “That's it. That's Darrell's van.”

Buck coasted the Jeep over to the van and killed the motor.

“So you say Darrell is out on the water? He won't be inside the van?”

“
Well he does sleep in it sometimes. But usually not here.”

Buck looked at me, then opened his door and got out.

Being in the back seat of the two door Jeep meant I couldn't easily follow unless either he or Eddie slid their seat forward.

Buck closed the door behind him, and Eddie didn't make a move to get out. I reached into the front seat and grabbed what remained of the twelve pack of beer, and put it in the back seat beside me.

“Eddie, why don't we trade places. You get back here, and I'll get up there.”

Eddie nodded. “Can do. But I gotta take a leak first.”

He got out of the Jeep and walked over to the nearby chain link fence, unzipped his pants and let nature take its course.

With him out of the Jeep, I was able to tilt the front seat forward, giving me enough room to climb out. As soon as I was out, I walked over to the blue van and joined Buck.

“See anything inside?”

“
No, there's curtains all the way around. Can't see inside.”

I tried the back door. It was locked. Buck tried the two front doors. They were locked as well.

“Try this.” I looked behind me and Eddie was standing there with a long screw driver.

“
This'll get you in. Just slip it between the two back doors and give it a twist.”

Apparently Eddie had experience in these matters.

CHAPTER FORTY FOUR

I had just slipped the screwdriver between the back doors of the blue van when I heard a voice behind me say, “Better not do that.”

I turned to see two men walking in my direction. One carrying a flashlight, and the other carrying what looked like a baseball bat.

Putting the screwdriver behind my back, I asked, “This your van?”

“Nope. Is it yours?”

Pointing back behind me, I said, “I think my dog's locked inside. Trying to get him out.”

The two men walked up closer and stopped about six feet in front of me. One had a pony tail, the other had spider web tattoos up both arms and around his neck.

I knew who they were. PT and Spider. The guys Polly had told me about. The ones who had been hanging out at Serenity Cove. The two guys I'd seen loading black suitcases into a boat when Lucy and I were having dinner at Zekes.

Pony Tail pointed his baseball bat toward Buck and Eddie. “Why don't you two move over a little closer to your friend here. That way we don't have to worry about you running off.”

He turned to me and said, “You didn't answer the question. Is this your vehicle?”

I smiled, trying my best to win the two guys over. “No, it's not mine. I'm in the Jeep over there.

“
But the guy who owns this van, his name is Darrell. And I think my dog's inside. Just want to get him out.”

Pony Tail shook his head. “Your dog's not in the van. And you don't want to be breaking into it.”

He pointed his baseball bat toward my Jeep. “It'd be best if all three of you got in your Jeep and got out of here before there's trouble.”

Eddie started moving toward the Jeep, but Buck and I stood our ground.

I smiled at Pony Tail. “We don't want any trouble. We just want our dog out of the van.”

He shook his head, “Your dog is not in there. And it's time for you to go.”

Buck looked at me and slowly moved his hand toward the inside of his jacket. I knew he was reaching for the gun that he wasn't supposed to be carrying.

I looked him in the eye and shook my head.

He got the message, moved his hand away and pretended to be scratching an itch on his shoulder.

Looking up, I saw Pony Tail shaking his head in disgust. He turned to Spider. “Call it in.”

Spider produced a phone from his back pocket, punched in a number and said, “We need a car.”

I looked at Buck and he signaled with his thumb that it was time to head back to the Jeep.

I took a step toward the Jeep, then quickly turned and slipped the screwdriver into the gap between the van's back doors. I twisted the screwdriver hard to the right.

That's all it took. One of the doors popped open. Not enough to see all the way in, but enough so I knew the door was now unlocked. If I grabbed the door handle, I could get it open.

A voice behind me, a lot closer than before, said, “Don't do it.”

Ignoring the voice, I reached for the door, which as it turned out, was a major mistake.

With my back to Pony Tail, I didn't see him swing the baseball bat that connected hard with my arm, knocking me away from the van.

As I fell to the ground, I saw Buck move toward me, and then saw Spider take Buck to the ground. I tried to stand, but Pony Tail placed the blunt end of the bat on my chest pinning me down.

“Look,” he said. “We tried to warn you. Told you to leave. But no, you just had to look in the van.

“
So I'm going to tell you again, the dog is not in the van. But now that you've jimmied the back door, you get to go for a ride and meet some of our friends.”

Behind him, I saw a black four door sedan pull into the parking lot. Two middle age men got out and walked over to Spider, who was standing over Buck.

Spider did the talking. “These three. Take them and their Jeep.”

The men said nothing, just nodded. Using plastic zip ties they handcuffed Buck, Eddie and me, and shoved us in the back seat of their car.

Eddie protested, “Listen here, I'm not with these guys. I was just walking along, minding my own business. I don't even know them.”

Then he said, “That's my beer in the Jeep. Don't be drinking it.”

The two men ignored him, locked us in the backseat, and went to talk with Pony Tail.

After a brief discussion, one of the men checked the Jeep. The keys were still in the ignition. He climbed in the driver's seat, started it up and drove off. The other man came back to the car we were in, started the motor, and followed the man who was driving my Jeep.

Eight minutes later, we stopped at a deserted looking warehouse on McCall Road, next door to Leonard's Roofing Supply. The driver of the Jeep got out, unlocked a padlock on a chain link fence, and rolled the gate open.

He got back in the Jeep and we followed until he reached a windowless cinder block building at the back of the gated yard.

Our driver walked to the lone metal door at the front of the building and pounded on it twice with his fist. A moment later, the door opened and a man stepped out. He looked at the car we were in, and shook his head.

Then he signaled our driver to bring us in.

We were still handcuffed in the back seat. I was sitting closest to the door on the drivers side so they took me in first. They left Eddie and Buck in the car with a man watching over them.

I was led into the building through a small hallway and then into a large well lit room. Several folding tables had been set up against the walls, and each table had a computer monitor and keyboard on it.

Men in various attire, ranging from Florida casual to business suits, monitored video feeds on the computer screens. Some of the men wore audio headsets and were engaged in on-screen conversations.

“
Where are we?” I asked.

The man guiding me said nothing. He pushed me past the computer stations and led me into a small unoccupied room in the back. A metal table sat in the center of the room, with a straight back chair on each side.

The man pointed at the chair on the far side of the table. “Sit. Don't go anywhere. Don't say anything.”

He left, leaving me alone in the room. A moment later, another man stepped in. Medium height, receding hairline, bags under his eyes, a scowl on his face.

He looked at me, a faint smile replacing the scowl. “I'm agent Harris with Homeland Security. We've got a few questions for you.”

“
Homeland Security? Why is Homeland Security involved? We were just trying to get a dog back.”

Harris shook his head. “You think this is about a dog? That's funny.”

Then he pointed at the grass stains on my shirt and the soot on my face.

“
Rough night?”

“
Yeah, you could say that. Am I under arrest?”

“
No. We don't arrest people. We might hold you for a while, but we don't do arrests.”

Harris looked at me. “You going to be trouble?”

I shook my head. “No. I just want to get my dog back and go home.”

“
Good. That's what I want to hear.”

From behind him, he produced a metal container about the size of a cigar box and slid it across the table to me. “Empty your pockets.”

My hands were still bound behind my back. “Untie me.”

Harris stood, pulled a small knife out of his pants pocket, and walked over behind me. “If you try anything, it won't end well.”

I nodded.

With a flick of the blade, he cut the plastic zip tie from around my wrist. I slowly brought my hands around and shook them to get the blood circulating. I then placed them on the table in front of me.

Harris smiled. “You're doing good so far. Now stand up. Empty your pockets. Put the contents in the box, and sit back down.”

I stood and did exactly what he said, emptying my pockets into the box. My wallet from my left front pant's pocket, Polly's cell phone from my right. I'd left my own cellphone back in the motor home.

“
What about your shirt pocket? Empty it.”

Since moving to Florida, I'd adopted the local custom of wearing Columbia fishing shirts. The kind with two breast pockets held closed with hook and loop tabs. Rarely did I carry anything in those pockets. But tonight was different.

Back at Polly's trailer, I'd picked up the GPS tracker she had found in the brick of pot. That tracker was now in my right shirt pocket.

Reaching in, I retrieved the tracker and placed it in the metal box.

“Is that everything?”

“
Yep. That's it.”

“
Good.”

Harris picked up the tracker. “Where'd you get this?”

“It's a long story.”

“
Good. I like long stories. So do my friends.”

The door of the room opened and another man stepped in. He picked up the metal box and left the room with it.

Harris and I sat in silence for a moment. He was smiling, like he knew something I didn't.

Four minutes later our silence was interrupted when the door opened and the man that had taken the metal box, returned and placed my drivers license on the table in front of Harris.

Harris picked it up and looked at it carefully. Then he said,  “Mr. Walker, want to tell me why you firebombed the house on Pandora street.”