Buzzard Bay (37 page)

“Yes.”

Henekie sounded surprised. “Lena.” The answer he got back was some of the most profound German he had ever heard. When she finally stopped cursing him, Henekie told her to calm down. “Is there anyone with you?” he asked.

“No,” she replied. “Someone knocked on my door, but that’s all I’ve heard. Get me out of here,” she demanded.

Henekie wasn’t sure that was such a good idea. “You haven’t done anything wrong, Lena, maybe you should stay there and wait for the police.”

“Get me out of here now!” she told him. “I don’t want to stay here, and I don’t trust anyone, not even you, you bastard.”

“Okay,” he decided, “I’m coming up.”

He climbed over Waddell’s hanging body and pulled himself up the rope into Lena’s apartment. The first thing he met was Lena’s gun pointed at his head; he could sense the anger in her.

“I should have shot you the first time I met you,” she seethed.

Henekie kept his voice calm. “I’m the only one here who can help you, Lena, it’s up to you.” Lena seemed to make her decision without resignation. “How do we get down from here?” she asked looking over the balcony.

“There’s a rope,” Henekie answered. “You’ll have to climb on to my back and let me take you down.” Lena hesitated and looked over the edge; just then there was another knock on the door, someone began shouting to be let in.

Henekie moved to the edge of the railing. “Put your arms around me and hang on,” he told her. She didn’t hesitate this time, although he noticed she didn’t let go of the gun. There wasn’t much to Lena; Henekie had no trouble carrying her down the rope and over Waddell’s body. It was when he let her go at the bottom that she gasped and pointed the gun at Waddell’s swinging body. “Easy, he’s dead,” he told her.

“Who is it?” she asked.

“Waddell,” he said, turning to leave. He was not ready for the reaction he got from his revelation. She began kicking and beating at the body. Henekie had to pull her off and forcefully carry her away.

“Don’t be stupid, Lena, Waddell has men around here,” he told her as he hustled her down the alley and back around to his car.

Once he had her in the car, she seemed to calm down and become very quiet. “Where are we going?” she asked in a low voice.

Henekie was very careful. “I thought I would take you to a compound the cartel keeps here in Nassau. No one will bother you until you decide what to do.”

Lena nodded her head. “Is he really dead?”

“Yes,” Henekie smiled. “Did you know you shot him in the ass?” Henekie began to laugh, as did Lena. It broke the ice. “Nassau is yours, Lena. Now that Waddell is out of the way, you are the power here.”

There was little traffic in the city at this time of the morning. It took only minutes to reach the compound. Lena had been quiet the rest of the way.

“This is it,” he told her as she watched a gate open in front of them.

“You are the power here, Henekie. I’m just the one everyone will see,” he heard her say.

He sat back in the seat looking at her intently. “No,” Henekie said firmly. “I will make sure that you are secure here, but this is not where I will spend my life.” It was the first time she had seen him smile. “I wish to spend time with my family. These islands have given me the ability to live comfortably the rest of my life. Other than that, they mean nothing to me.”

“Maybe I should leave too,” Lena said to herself as much as anyone.

“That would not be wise, Lena, you know too much.”

Lena knew that Henekie could kill her here and now with no hesitation. It was the fear that made her cling to her gun as if it was her only friend. “Why me?” she asked.

“Because you are the only one I know and trust in the islands,” he answered immediately. “I need someone I can set up here quickly and quietly. You fit the part perfectly: you are greedy, you have always manipulated men, and you are a survivor.”

Lena laughed at his candid description of her.

“Just remember, Lena, you will still be a kept woman. As long as you do what you do well, the cartel will look after you.”

“Never again will a man take advantage of me,” some of Lena’s anger surfaced again.

“Let me give you advice, Lena. I would be very nice to El Presidente. Sure, he is a pig. People are only valuable to him if they fill his needs. You can do that, Lena. He only gets rid of women when he tires of them. You have the perfect situation. He will not be able to spend much time here, as long as you have control of things he’ll leave you alone.”

Lena began to catch on to what Henekie was saying. She liked the idea. “You mean he is the boss, but I’ll have control?”

“If you play your cards right, Lena. Right now, you have the best hand. Don’t let anyone bluff you out of it. After what you did to Waddell, everyone will come into line.”

“They will know I didn’t do it myself,” Lena stated.

“That’s even better. They know you have the power to do it. Powerful people don’t get their hands dirty. Just by coming here to the cartel’s house lets the people know who is in charge. Believe me, nothing goes on in this town that someone does not know about. The word always gets around.”

“How will I get in touch with you?” Lena asked.

“I will contact you from time to time. Other than that, you will probably not see me again. Come, I will let you in.”

“You seem very confident, Henekie, that the cartel will have control of these islands. Right now, the way I hear it, Mark Bertrand has them on the run,” Lena said.

This seemed to agitate Henekie. He stopped and turned to her. “We have a little party planed for Mr. Bertrand, a surprise party. This party will be in honor of his retirement and to pay for my retirement fund. Have no fear, Lena, no one can stand in our way. Bertrand will soon be like Waddell, an example for others who do not fall in line.”

They continued up a driveway until they came to a house. They got out of the car and he led her to a door where Henekie rang the buzzer. Soon the door was opened by a sleepy looking man. “This is Quinn, Lena. He’s El Presidente’s right hand man, From now on, whatever you need, just talk to Quinn here. He will look after you now.”

“What about my belongings in the apartment?” Lena wondered aloud. She was still dressed in her nightgown.

“Tell Quinn what you need and he will go shopping for you. Money is no object. In a few days,some people will want to question you,” Henekie warned her. “Just tell them you weren’t home and have no idea what happened at your apartment. Make up a story: you don’t feel safe there anymore, so you are moving,” he shrugged. “They will have to let you take your stuff. Make sure that if you have any problems, consult with Quinn. He will take care of it for you.” He turned and walked out of the door, closing it behind him.

It was like closing a chapter in the islands. With Waddell gone, power had shifted to other hands.

Henekie started his car and drove away. Not bad for a poor boy from the ghettos. He was proud of himself remembering how he had grown up, always fending for himself. How at the age of fifteen, he got caught stealing and was forced to join the army. This had been a stroke of luck for him as it turned out. He learned all about killing and the weapons that were needed to accomplish it.

He soon found friends who hated the regimental life but loved the power that came with the feel of a gun. It wasn’t long until they were deemed uncontrollable and kicked out of the army. This was a real blow to Henekie, but not for long. His friends soon invited him to join them. They were hired for good money to fight in Africa. There, he learned that people would pay him to kill. He had also learned to trust no one. From there, he had worked his way to becoming a hired assassin but always working for someone else, taking all the chances, living from job to job. Well, that was all behind him now, he thought as he drove into the Nassau airport.

He had received a message that a package was waiting for him in Miami. Henekie chartered a plane, landing in Fort Lauderdale Municipal two hours later. He immediately phoned a central registry for his messages. The one he received got his adrenaline going. The coded message told him El Presidente had purchased a freighter in Argentina, where it had been fitted with the equipment Henekie had specified.

They were now south of Cuba, staying east away from U.S. surveillance, with a rendezvous time of three days from today. Henekie picked up his package and took his charter back to Andros Island. His ingredients would have to be mixed with the next fuel delivery to Bertrand’s ship. That’s tomorrow afternoon, he calculated. He’d not slept in two days. He fell asleep, confident that everything was going on schedule.

Lena was not quite as confident. At least, she felt secure in her new home. Quinn showed her to her bedroom. It was huge, very elegant, making her feel important, and restoring her confidence. There was a heart-shaped tub in the corner.

he turned on the water and began undressing. Her mind skimmed over what Henekie had told her about Bertrand. She thought about trying to warn him. He had been very good to her. She had sensed something in him that she’d seen in very few men. He had genuinely cared about her. Most men were so self-centered; they had little time to care about anyone but themselves. They turned to her only for self-satisfaction, using her to fulfill their own needs, never thinking that she might have feelings also. Well, she took what they had given her, learning to stay emotionally distanced.

Tonight was the first time that she had ever fought back. Now she had respect. The power made her skin tingle as she stepped into tub, feeling the water engulf her.

“No,” she thought, “I had to stand on my own two feet; now you’ll have to do the same, Mark Bertrand.” Her decision seemed to bring serenity over her, and she fell asleep in the soothing water.

TWENTY-TWO

A
GENT ANSLY WAS
extremely surprised when he received El Presidente’s message. After their ambush of Buzzard Bay and the ensuing attack on the Andros farm, the CIA agents had been very busy consolidating their positions, expecting a counterassault at any time.

At first, they considered the message a hoax, a diversion to catch them off guard. Ansly immediately informed the agency of El Presidente’s message that he wished to meet with Bertrand to make a deal. The people at CIA headquarters were equally suspicious, putting their intelligence people in Colombia to work finding out what was going on.

Ansly returned El Presidente’s message asking for more details. Again they received the same message that El Presidente would set sail tomorrow to rendezvous with Bertrand in three days’ time.

“There’s no use fighting each other,” the message went on to say, “I’m sure something can be worked out. CIA intelligence sources confirmed that El Presidente’s yacht did indeed leave Cuba.”

“The agency isn’t sure what he is up to,” Ansly told everybody on board. “The cartel has never, to our knowledge, negotiated with anyone before. On the other hand, they have never been pushed this hard before.”

Ansly showed them on an overhead projector the route El Presidente would take to come and meet them.

“The agency has decided we’ll meet him right here at Buzzard Bay. El Presidente has agreed to this. We shall have surveillance on him at all times. Any tricks or suspicious actions and, Ansly drew a finger across his throat, ‘No more El Presidente.’ Headquarters thinks this is as good a time as any to take him. It’s quite possible that as he negotiates with us,” he looked at Bob, “he will tell us a lot of things we would like to know. The risk in all this is that here we are on neutral ground. The Andros base is not far away, but they cannot help us unless the request goes through the proper channels. However, I don’t see much of a problem. There’s not much he can do to this floating fortress short of bombing it. His yacht is not armed with anything heavy enough to be a threat, so the rest is up to us.”

Ansly told Bob he’d be spending the next three days on board preparing for his meeting with El Presidente. “You’ll have to convince him that you’re Mark Bertrand because he will know everything there is to know about him. We will also be briefing you as to the information we want you to get out of him.”

It was July who changed Ansly’s mind. She wasn’t alone; many of the people on board, especially Carol, backed her up. The wind was blowing hard across the deck as July and Ansly walked up and down, deep in conversation.

“Look, Ansly, we’ve got three days,” July told him. “I want my husband back. This has been hard on him and on me,” she stopped and looked out over the railing. “He needs a break and so do I. Captain Norton’s house is just off to the right,” she pointed toward shore. “His place is very private and runs right down to the ocean. I want Bob and I to spend the next three days together there.”

Ansly did not like the idea, but he was under a lot of pressure. Bob was crucial to their plans. He told July this and how he felt. “He’d be a lot safer on board, July. Besides, he has to be briefed on his meeting with El Presidente.”

Her reply was the coldest blue eyes he had ever encountered. “You owe me,” she told him in a commanding voice. “Put whatever you want Bob to know on paper, we’ll go over it every day. I can teach him as well as you.”

Ansly had worked with July for some time now. He had come to respect her intelligence. She had a remarkable knack of sifting through whatever was put in front of her and making sense of it. This work they were doing was a dirty, dangerous job, yet she handled it with dignity. There wasn’t one agent on the ship who wouldn’t back July to the limit, that’s how much they thought of her. He’d also taken enough courses through the agency to know she could be very manipulative, using any of her various attributes to get what she wanted.

He watched her blonde hair blow against her face. “God, she was beautiful,” he thought. Ansly shook his head. “You can be very persuasive, July.” He’d shaken his head as much to clear it as to tell July he was undecided.

But July was determined to have her way and continued her argument. In the end, he relented, saving as much face as he could by placing conditions on her demands. They haggled, finally coming to an agreement.

“There’s one more thing,” she said emphatically, “Bob is not to know that I know about him and Lena.” She looked out over the water. “You can threaten us with anything you want, but you can’t separate us anymore.”

A small boat took July to Horatio’s beach under cover of darkness. There was no way of letting him know she was coming, but when he saw her standing in the doorway, he hugged her like a long-lost friend.

The CIA had known Horatio for a long time, considering him “friendly.” They knew he’d walked a fine line keeping law and order on the island while taking a blind eye to many of the activities going on there. Had he played ball with the right people, he would have had a cushy job in Nassau instead of having being left in charge of a small outpost.

On the other hand, they’d had no trouble on the island, so he became a valuable man to have here. At least, there had been no trouble until now. Horatio had no control on saying what was happening; he could at best stay out of the way.

July spent the rest of the night briefing Horatio as to what had happened since they had last met.

“Both of you just fell off the face of the earth,” Horatio told her. “I assumed you were dead.”

“I would like to bring Bob here and spend some time with him,” July explained. “I realize it could be very dangerous for your family, so we will understand if you say no.”

“I’ve sent my family away until this is over,” Horatio told her. “Of course you may stay. There is a small house in the backyard where the kids stay when they’re home. It’s yours as long as you want it.”

July spent the next day fixing the little house up as best she could with the limited resources available. She felt like a schoolgirl on her first date waiting for Bob to come, yet dreading what might happen when he did. She was on the beach when the small boat carrying Bob landed. Her heart was in her mouth, “What will I say?” and began to shake uncontrollably.

Ansly thought it best to tell Bob that July was waiting for him. “One false move, Bob, and you are going back on board,” Ansly warned him.

A dark shape left the bow and bounded toward her. Before she knew what was happening, it had swooped her up in its arms, kissing her lips. All the tension went out of her. She wrapped her arms around Bob’s neck. “Never, never leave me alone again, you son of a bitch.” He knew he was home. They spent the days in the little cabin making love, talking, and working. They set aside three hours every day studying everything the CIA wanted Bertrand to find out about the Colombian drug lord.

It was the nights they enjoyed the most. They could spend their time along the beach romping naked much the same as they had a long time ago in less troubling times. July or Bob never talked about the time they had been apart.

One night as they lay on the sand spent with passion, she sensed Bob becoming very still.

“What is it?” she asked.

“You know I’ve been posing as Mark Bertrand, don’t you?” It was as much a statement as a question.

“Yes,” she answered simply, wondering where this would lead.

“You know, I had forgotten who I really was until I saw you standing on the beach the other night. I had really begun to think that I was Mark Bertrand. Everything I did or touched was like someone else was doing it.”

“So what’s he like, this Bertrand?”

Bob rolled over and kissed her. “You wouldn’t like him,” he told her.

Time flew, the sight of the ship offshore a constant reminder that their time together was limited. It was on the third night that Ansly himself visited them.

“You’ll have to come aboard tonight,” he told them.

“El Presidente is docking in Nassau sometime today and wants to rendezvous the day after tomorrow. That will give us a day to get ready.” It was disappointing news, but they had known it was coming.

“They have to get their things together,” Horatio told Ansly. “I’ll bring them over after midnight.” Ansly agreed and left, leaving Bob and July to their last few hours together.

July said, “I asked Ansly how long El Presidente would be here. He thought probably a couple of days would be all he would want. After that, depending on the situation, the CIA would decide what they wanted to do with him. Bob, something is wrong about all this!”

It had been bothering her for a while; their time together was almost gone, and she felt an urgency to get it off her chest. “Ansly and his people are trusting this too lightly. They seem to have the mentality that they are the most powerful people in the world. How can they be so naive? The cartel probably has more resources than the total of the CIA. We know how ruthless they can be.”

“I didn’t want to worry you,” Bob answered, “but I’m just as apprehensive. It doesn’t make sense to me that only a few months ago this El Presidente was scared to take his yacht anywhere for fear the Americans would sink him. Now he’s sailing right under their noses. It is as if he knows the CIA is waiting for him here.”

July agreed with Bob’s assessment, “There’s no way he’s going to walk into their ballpark without an ace up his sleeve,” she told him. “The point is that El Presidente wanted to meet and agreed to meet here. Does he think the CIA won’t do anything to him, nor does he really believe Bertrand is alone in this? I don’t believe for a minute that El Presidente has any intention of negotiating in good faith with anyone.”

“There are too many things going on here that we don’t know about,” Bob answered her.

He smiled, “We’re just pawns again, July. We are being used, and we are expendable.”

Captain Norton had sat quietly listening to their conversation.

“I can get you out of here,” he told them, “but I doubt you would be able to hide from either of these people for long. You both know too much.”

The anger on July’s face softened, “Thank you, Horatio. I have a feeling Bob’s going to go through with this, even though it’s like walking into a minefield.”

“It’s the only way we’ll find out how this thing ends up,” Bob told them. “We’ve gone too far to run away now.”

Horatio knew exactly how it felt to be caught in the middle. “Keep your wits about you,” was all he could advise. “If you need to get out, I’ll help all I can.”

Tears came to July’s eyes; it was Horatio that had looked after their son and taken him to safety in Florida with his family. He had shown up time and time again to help her and Bob. “You’re a true friend,” she told him.

“It’s not all one way,” Horatio told them, “matter of fact, through you two, these islands have a chance for the better.”

The huge black man got up to leave. “Better get ready,” he told them. “We’ll have to leave soon.”

Bob and July’s assessment of the situation was probably closer than they knew. Both sides had everything on the line. Any failure on the cartel’s part would certainly curtail their activities in this part of the world. On the flipside, the CIA had everything on the line. If they came home with their tail between their legs, the drug lords would gain confidence. America’s war on drugs would lose its momentum; countries around the world working with them would abandon them like a sinking ship leaving the rats to return.

El Presidente’s yacht had arrived in Nassau early in the afternoon. Now he sat watching out his stateroom window as the tugs pulled the American destroyer into its docking position across the harbor. El Presidente had not seen the destroyer before, but he knew it had shadowed him since leaving Cuban waters. He smiled, remembering that Henekie had told him it would.

What a find his little German friend had turned out to be. Very expensive, but worth it for now anyway. El Presidente turned his attention to the papers in front of him. He’d had a lot of time to think on this trip. Things had been too good; he had lost the hands on part of his business. He felt like a young man again taking chances, getting involved with the dangerous side of the business.

This was what he was good at mainly because he had no morals or conscience. He could kill without remorse and loved to torture. The affliction of pain was a particular specialty he excelled in. His innovative ways of killing were renowned.

There were two reports in front of him. One was Henekie’s plan for tonight. The other was a list of people who would have to be terminated after. At the head of the list were the names Bob and July Green. The names, he remembered, had been on many lists before. Henekie had told him that Green was the luckiest man he had ever seen. Well, Green’s luck would soon run out tonight, if indeed, he was on Bertrand’s ship as Henekie suspected.

It made sense. It was the only way Green could hide from them for so long. The question was, “Why was he on this ship?

El Presidente read the report on Green: small time, broke, just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he knew too much about what was none of his business, but really nothing there to indicate why Bertrand would keep him alive unless he planned to use him as a bargaining chip. This would confirm Henekie’s theory that the CIA were working with Bertrand.

Now, Green’s wife, that was a different story. She was reported to be very loyal to her husband. El Presidente could not understand this. “Why would a beautiful woman like this be with a loser like him?” He suspected there might be a little more to this Green than Henekie thought. Tonight should take care of this problem. As for July Green, well, he’d heard that Waddell had taken her for his own pleasure. Then there were rumors that she had escaped him. He couldn’t confirm this with Waddell now that he was dead.

Wherever she is, I will find her, his eyes roaming over her photograph. But that’s for later, now I must concentrate on the problem at hand. He spoke to his lieutenant who sat across from him.