Buzzard Bay (40 page)

His reflex was to get down behind the wall in front of him. The next second, a doorway disappeared above his head sending splinters and debris into all parts of his body.

“Holy fuck!” he screamed out in fear; he opened his eyes to see Horatio rising from the rubble. His face was covered in blood and dust.

“Let’s get out of here,” he shouted.

Bob took one last look around the wall. He could see a steady stream of tracer bullets flashing by disintegrating everything in their way. There was no way of standing up to this onslaught; fire was breaking out all over the place.

Bob looked over at Horatio, and they began to run across the deck staying as low as they could. They reached the top of the stairs leading down the side of the ship, only to see a powerboat docking below. They turned and ran back on deck hearing the ping of bullets hitting the steps where they had just been. They ran farther down the deck toward the back of the ship.

The last time Bob had been this scared was the night he had jumped off the roof of his mother’s house and run through the snow expecting a bullet in the back any second. They caught the light of a flare drifting over them and then a flash of light somewhere behind. He could hear Horatio breathing hard. Bob knew he couldn’t go much further.

“Ready,” he looked at Horatio who nodded his head. They climbed the railing and jumped as another flash of light exploded behind them. Bob hit the water just ahead of Horatio. It seemed forever before he bobbed up above the surface gasping for air. He was worried about Horatio; he was a heavier man and had gone down a lot deeper than he had. Bob heard a splash and some splattering behind him. He was relieved to see Horatio gasping for air.

“Which way?” Bob asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Horatio gasped. “Just get away from the ship, July will find us.”

El Presidente was concentrated on his telescope; he did not notice the exploding flares until his men began shouting something about fireworks. He had no idea what his men were talking about. He turned in time to be blinded by a bright light exploding somewhere up near the smoke stacks. The next thing he heard was the sound of machine-gun fire and the sickening thud of bullets hitting bone.

There were bodies flying everywhere; his instinct told him to get down. He lay on the floor beneath his table. He put his hands over his head and stayed still, pieces of wood from the table and chairs began to sting his back, and then something hit his knee making him scream in pain. He had to get out of there. Slowly he slid on his belly; he had no idea which way he was headed.

El Presidente’s lieutenant had his orders when he came on board. “Only you and I will leave this ship,” El Presidente had told him. “No one must ever have seen me here.” He had been briefed as to where each explosive device was to be placed. Now that his task was completed, he came on deck joining the men in celebrating their great victory. He assessed the situation; it was just as El Presidente had said it would be. Bertrand’s ship was well in hand, the men suspected nothing, and most important of all, he had the signaling device to set off the charges. He felt particularly proud of this fact. El Presidente had been good to him in other ways too. Giving him his main whore was another reason he would protect El Presidente with his life.

El Presidente invited him over to look through the telescope. Pouring him a drink, El Presidente quietly asked him, “Is everything ready?”

“Yes.” They spoke in English in case they were overheard.

The lieutenant mixed and drank with the men until he was as drunk as they were. His mind switched to the whore in his cabin; she needed one last screw before she went to hell. He opened the cabin door; she was lying naked on the bed, passed out as usual.He sat on the bed beside her and slapped her face hard. She moaned and opened her eyes.

“Fuck off,” she mumbled and rolled away.

“Don’t turn away from me, bitch.” He grabbed her by the shoulders, lifting her face to his. “You think you’re better than me because you were El Presidente’s whore, well, he gave you to me.” He saw her eyes open with hate, and then she spat in his face. He laughed at her, “You see this thing on my belt?” He showed her what looked like a telephone with red flashing numbers.

“Soon, I will push these numbers and you will be in hell,” he told her.

Zeze looked at the device hanging from his belt, and then looked over and reached for a bottle near the bed.

“I’d just as soon be in hell as with you,” she told him. She took a drink from the bottle as he left the bed and began removing his pants. She remembered when she thought she was on top of the world sleeping with the great El Presidente, having his baby, life had been so good back then.

El Presidente’s wife hated her and wanted her out of the house. El Presidente was tired of her anyway. He took the baby away from her and gave her to this man so he would have something to do on the long voyage from Argentina on the freighter. Drugs helped her survive; she needed some now.

“Give me some of your good shit if you’re going to send me to hell. I want to go on a cloud,” Zeze told him.

The lieutenant went to a locked cupboard on the wall. He opened it brought out a bag, and handed it to her. She sat up on the bed, taking a spoon and filling it with the white powder, and then inhaled it up her nose.

“How you don’t blow your brains out with that stuff is beyond me,” he told her. She shrugged holding a spoonful out to him. He didn’t often use the stuff, but this was a special occasion, a last occasion to be exact. Standing in front of her, he took the spoon and began sniffing up some of the coke. The effect hit him immediately.

The whore began playing with his cock. He could feel himself become instantly hard as she ran her tongue up and down his shaft. Neither of them heard the flares bursting outside. If they did, they assumed they were bursting in their own minds.

It was the sound of machine guns that brought the lieutenant back to reality. They were real, very real. He left the whore sitting on the bed and raced to the cabin door. What he saw on the deck outside was total chaos. His own men were shooting each other; no one seemed to know where or who was shooting. El Presidente was no longer at his table, the lieutenant noticed as he ran on deck, oblivious to the bullets flying around him. He grabbed the handles of the double-barreled fifty-caliber machine gun mounted there and began firing. He had no idea what he was shooting at; he just began raking the decks killing anything that moved. He stopped firing; everything he saw in front of him was in shambles.

The whore came to the cabin door; she began screaming and pointing, and the lieutenant saw something move. He blasted away almost blowing the man into little pieces. He stood watching, but nothing moved. He walked over to the party deck, and only then did he realize what he had done.

“My god,” he thought, “I’ve killed El Presidente.”

His mind filled with rage, he turned toward the whore standing in the cabin doorway. She was laughing at him. He could see that her nose was white with powder. She was laughing the most hideous laugh he had ever heard. In her hand was the signaling device to the explosives.

“No,” he screamed, starting toward her.

By now, she was laughing uncontrollably and began pushing the buttons. He was almost to her when he heard her say, “You’re going to hell without your pants on!”

Zeze pushed the last button and felt the gods rumble beneath her feet taking her away from this hell to where they would take her, she did not care.

Henekie was satisfied everything was going according to plan, as the two powerboats circled around Bertrand’s ship. The missile had worked perfectly; the ship was already starting to list to one side. “Perfect execution,” he thought. Now all they had to do was maintain the perimeter. Already the powerboats had rammed and sunk two of the safety boats loaded with people. Any survivors had been shot in the water. Even the bodies floating by were shot to make sure no one survived.

The flares exploding over El Presidente’s ship took Henekie by surprise. At first, he thought it was probably El Presidente’s men celebrating, but he decided to check it out. Unfortunately, the jamming equipment shut down their radio communications too.

This problem was solved by converting a spotlight for use with Morse Code. This had worked well between the two boats, and now Henekie signaled the other powerboat to go back and check on the ship. This was his kill, and he wanted to stay on top of it. They circled, watching for anyone trying to swim for shore.

He heard the blast about the same time as he felt the hot air on his back. His mouth fell open; El Presidente’s ship had literally blown apart. Something was dreadfully wrong; all of his plans were ruined. Someone must have been careless with the explosives. He stood watching and hoping to see the other powerboat, but there was nothing. That would mean that El Presidente was dead. Without El Presidente, he would not get paid. All his work, all his planning was for nothing.

The other four men were also standing watching El Presidente’s ship wondering what was going on. Henekie realized he would have to use his head just to get out of here alive. If these guys found out that El Presidente was dead, they would kill him without a second thought.

“Okay,” he told them, “Bertrand’s ship is done for. Anyone left, the sharks will get. The other powerboat picked up El Presidente and took him around the north side of the island, away from anyone who happens to come to inspect what’s happening here. We’ll head back toward Nassau and head off any patrol boats that happen to be looking for him.” The men accepted this explanation and much to Henekie’s relief, they headed out to the open sea.

There was a case of booze in the cabin; Henekie brought it out. “Help yourselves,” he told them, “It was a good night’s work.” The men were pretty well out of it by the time Henekie saw the lights of Nassau in the early morning light. He machine-gunned the men and threw their bodies overboard. He had to hurry; daylight was already on its way. He didn’t bother sneaking in this time; he came in full bore stopping only for the door to open into the old warehouse. There was only one man in the warehouse. He helped Henekie dock.

“I’m going to stay for a while and get some sleep,” he told the man. Henekie was dead tired; he needed some sleep, and then he would think.

Bob and Horatio swam away from the ship. It was very dark, and they could see nothing of July until they heard the small outboard coming toward them. She cut the motor and scrambled forward to help the men into the boat.

“Let’s get Horatio into the boat first,” Bob told her, “He’s exhausted.”

It took all their strength to get him over the side; he rolled into the bottom of the boat and stayed there. July helped Bob into the boat.

“Better get life jackets on,” she told them. “If they spot us, we may have to go in the water again.”

July bent down to help Horatio with the jacket. Bob stood up putting his jacket on.

Ansly’s ship was tipped halfway over; now flames and smoke poured from her. Bob looked around but could not see anyone near them. Something erupted in front of him; the force of it knocked him headfirst into the outboard, and then propelled him over the back of the boat into the water.

The shock went over July and Horatio in the bottom of the boat, but seconds later waves from the blast capsized the boat, throwing them both into the water. July had no idea what had happened; the first thing she remembered was floating in the water watching pieces of El Presidente’s ship flying high into the air.

Explosion after explosion racked the ship; the heat was intense. There was lots of light now.

July looked around. She saw Horatio floating nearby; she began to panic, and there was no sign of Bob.

“Can you see Bob?” July screamed.

Horatio tried to calm her down; he’d seen Bob being thrown from the boat and didn’t give him much hope, but he didn’t tell her that. “July,” he said, “you’ve got no life jacket. Swim to the boat, and I’ll look for him.”

July didn’t listen to him as she began swimming away.

“I see him,” she shouted excitedly and began swimming toward a body floating in the water. Horatio went over to help her; together they pulled Bob over to the capsized boat.

“Is he dead?” she asked Horatio, the fear showing in her eyes.

“Can’t tell,” Horatio told her. “All we can do now is hang on to him and get to shore.”

July looked toward the shore; it looked so far away.

“At least he had his lifejacket on,” Horatio tried to reassure her, “or he would have drowned.”

The waves from the explosion made it hard to hang on to the boat; sometimes they lost hold and had to swim back to it, but July had a death grip on Bob, she never let go of him. The waves had a good effect too. They helped push them toward shore far quicker than July realized.

The racing surf actually threw her up against the sand, beating up her already bruised body. She pulled at Bob as hard as she could, pulling him away from the pounding surf and up onto the sand as far as she could. She looked up to see Horatio being battered about in the surf, and she used the last of her energy to help him into shore then returned to Bob. She was scared to touch him for fear he was dead. To her relief, his body was still warm. She found a pulse; it was steady. She curled up beside him in the warm sand and fell asleep.

TWENTY-THREE

I
N THE DISTANCE,
Bob could see a point of light. It tried to entice him into walking toward it, but he was happy where he was. “It’s so peaceful here, and I’m so tired. I’ll leave in a little while, now I want to sleep,” he thought.

It pleased him that he heard July’s voice from time to time. He heard other voices too. It made him feel good to have his friends with him. It made this place he was in even more comfortable. No one could hurt him here; there was no violence, no one making demands. Darkness drifted over him, and he returned to his state of unconsciousness.

It had been two weeks since the boats looking for survivors had found the three of them lying on the beach. They were the only survivors, July had been told later.

July and Horatio were, except for minor scrapes and bruises, in good shape, suffering mostly from exhaustion. But Bob was unconscious and had to be moved by stretcher into the boat where they were taken to the airport at Fresh Creek and then flown to a hospital in Nassau.

ince that time, Bob had not regained consciousness. The doctors told July there seemed to be nothing wrong with him other than that he had taken a knock to the head. “Sometimes the brain just never recovers,” they told her. All they could do was wait and see. July sat with him every day. Sometimes she tried to talk to him, but there was never any response.

People they knew stopped by; both Mindy and Rikker were there. Neither could stand to see their dad like this; they didn’t stay long, leaving their mother to sit with Bob alone. The hospital staff tried to get her to get out for a bit.

July had no intention of leaving Bob. He meant everything to her; she felt he knew she was there. Every day she talked to him, trying to bring his mind back to reality.

Novak came to see July at the hospital. They had a good visit. “I was hoping you could spend a day with us at our office,” he told her. “There are a lot of things we would like to ask you and some things we have to show you.”

“I thought you’d be back in Canada by now,” she told him.

“Sir Harry talked me into staying and going to work for him or, I should say, the Bahamian government,” he answered her. “As of last Thursday, I am no longer a member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. I now work for Interpol and as part of the Bahamian Police Department.”

“Well, congratulations, Mr. Novak, I must say I’m surprised,” July told him.

“I have to confess, it’s a big move for me. But since coming here, I realized that I like it here, and I like working here. My old job was getting pretty boring.”

July hesitated leaving Bob, but finally, they agreed to meet the next afternoon.

July sat with Bob the next morning, hating to leave him for the afternoon. Once she sat down to get ready, she realized how awful she looked. She went to work, giving herself a major overhaul from head to foot. She began to feel better about herself, vowing not to let herself get like this again.

July had not been outside for at least two weeks. She had spent the days at Bob’s bedside and slept in the room with him. Novak had told her he would send a car around to pick her up, but she had insisted that she would walk even though the address he gave her was at least a half-hour away.

It was an absolutely beautiful day; the sun was hot, but the cool sea breezes felt good on July’s skin. Her usually dark skin had turned white from her stay inside. She hated being pale; it did not look healthy in her estimation. As she walked, she realized a lot of things. The hospital people were right. “I have to get out more,” she said to herself. She enjoyed the walk so much that she was disappointed to realize she had arrived at her destination. It was a small middle-of-the-road downtown hotel, an old place with character; she liked that.

Novak was waiting for her in the lobby.

“You are looking good today,” he told her.

July laughed; he had seen her yesterday, and anything would be an improvement, but she knew he was sincere and thanked him for it.

“We have one of the small meeting rooms at the back of the hotel reserved,” he told her. “Would you please follow me?” He led her to the room and sat her in a chair by itself on one side of the room. Across from her was a long table with five chairs lined up behind it. Novak sat in one of the chairs, introducing the other men as they came into the room.

July found all this very interesting; an interrogation? Well, July had spent many hours in the hospital thinking about when they would get around to this. They would wait to see if Bob came around, she had thought. Now they were impatient so she would have to do.

Upon looking at them, she thought she had them pretty well-placed. At least they weren’t all CIA, she concluded, but the only one she knew was Novak. “At least I have one friend,” she thought.

The young man who started the questioning was definitely CIA. He looked like a nerd with an attitude problem. After all, he worked for the most powerful country in the world. The CIA seemed to instill this fact into the minds of all their employees. She had seen this arrogance in Ansly; it had ultimately been his downfall.

“Mrs. Green, we would like to ask you a few questions,” the young man said to her.

“On whose authority?” she returned.

The young man had not expected this. “I don’t think that’s necessary for you to know,” he answered blustering.

“Are you CIA?” she asked bluntly.

The young man’s face became very red, angry that his authority be questioned. “I said, that’s none of your business.”

July got up and stood in front of the young man. She leaned over the desk putting her face inches from his, her ice-blue eyes looking directly into his.

“Don’t fuck with me!” Her voice was very husky. “You look like the type of brilliant little prick the CIA would send out to rule the world. Well, I’ve got news for you. I think you fucked up big-time, and now you are going to try and save your ass.”

The young man’s mouth fell open. She could see the rage build on his face. If he could have hit her, he would have.

“If you are here in the Bahamas, that means you are sanctioned here. It means you run their office and you look after their people. My husband and I have put our lives on the line for you, and you say it is none of my business. Who do you think you are? Where were you when that ship went down with everyone on board? How come there was no backup or contingency plan? I know why. Because conceited little bastards like you and Ansly think that because you work for the CIA, no one is as smart as you.” She stood back looking at the other men sitting at the table.

“As for you gentlemen, I have a pretty fair idea who you are too. What bothers me is that you would have sat there letting him tell you what he wanted you to know. Well, get your tails out from between your legs. You had better ask the CIA what actually happened here. They fucked up, and they fucked up big-time. If you guys want to talk to me, you shall be up-front with who you are and what is happening.”

he looked at Novak. “I did not come here to be interrogated. I’ll tell you what I know, but there are things I want to know also. Do we understand one another?” The men looked at each other but said nothing.

“I’ll be in the courtyard if you decide you would like to discuss matters further. I’ll meet you there.” She left them and stepped into the courtyard.

Instantly, she felt the hot sun on her already flushed skin. It is the only way, she thought to herself. You had to face them down. Once they realized they couldn’t manipulate you and came down to the same level, they became humans again, probably not bad guys really.

July found a table with an umbrella shading one side. She sat down in the shade leaving the other chairs for the men sitting in the sun, just in case they wanted to negotiate a little more.

Novak smiled to himself. He had not known until today what was going on either, and when he found out, he was not pleased. He felt sorry for the men around the table. There were lots they wanted to know, and July could supply much of this information, but they now thought the CIA had not been quite up-front with them, and it was causing quite a lively discussion.

At last, they turned to Novak and asked if he would reason with her.

“No,” he answered, “but I will apologize. You people got exactly what you deserve. She risked her life for you and hasn’t asked for anything in return but respect. Surely you can trust her as an equal and confide in her some of the things you know.”

This did not fizz on the CIA man at all. He thought they should arrest July. The man who represented the Bahamian police fired back that he thought the CIA agent should be arrested.

Novak saw that this was going nowhere. He left and joined July in the courtyard. He took a chair that afforded as much shade as possible accepting his punishment for bringing July to this meeting without first researching its intent. Novak apologized to her, and then he encouraged her.

“I’m glad to see you’ve still got your old spark, July. You were perfectly right to do what you did in there.”

July smiled at him. “It is always nice to have friends, Mr. Novak. Right now, I need them very badly.” Her face quickly changed. “I have put those men in a spot. They are going to have to save face somehow. It will be interesting to see what they come up with.”

Novak laughed, “It will be more interesting to see what you come up with!”

The four men filed into the courtyard and walked to where July and Novak were sitting. One of the men looked like he wished to speak, but before he did so, July asked, “Would you please sit down, gentlemen?”

They sat down already feeling the disadvantage of sitting in the hot sun. “We understand you should have been informed as to who would be here today and that certain information would be required,” the same young man told her. “However, we have already talked to Captain Horatio Norton. He has basically told us all we need to know. All we wanted you to do was verify a few facts.”

“Gentlemen, what Captain Norton knows and what I know may be two different things,” July told them. “If you want to talk to me, here is what we do. I suggest an informal meeting at Mr. Chamberlain’s house. That should be fair because he is one of yours. I want Captain Norton to be there, and I want to be briefed by Novak here as up to date as possible. The meeting date is up to your discretion.”

The hot sun was beginning to take its toll. The men looked at each other and nodded. Only the young CIA man showed any signs of having fight left in him.

“Since we already know what we need from Captain Norton, I don’t think this meeting is necessary,” he told her.

“That is fine,” July shot back, “but whether it is from me or from the news media, you are going to hear my story.”

The young man became very red in the face again.

“We can have you put where no one will ever see you again,” he threatened.

“That’s one of the reasons the rest of you must hear my story,” July told them. “Not just the questions this young man chooses to ask, but the whole story. Believe me, gentlemen, it is worth hearing.”

“Would you be ready by tomorrow night?” one of the other men asked.

“If that’s convenient for Mr. Novak to bring me up to date?” She looked at Mr. Novak; he nodded his head.

“Yes, we can do that.” July got up from the table. “Till tomorrow, gentlemen. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” The sweating men gladly rose and watched her leave.

“That’s a lot of woman,” one of the men said.

“In more ways than one,” one of the other men speculated. They all chuckled, but they all knew it was the truth.

The next day Novak briefed July on what had happened since the incident at Buzzard Bay. There were speculations and rumors but not much concrete evidence as to what really happened. They had only Captain Norton’s testimony to go on. He was the only eyewitness they had questioned until now. Other than him telling Interpol that he and Bob Green had been on a ship they speculated El Presidente to be on minutes before it blew up, Norton had little proof to back up his story. Novak told July that this seemed to please the CIA man, and he wanted the rest of the investigation turned over to them.

“You’ve certainly changed that,” Novak told her.

“I think everyone will get an eye opening tonight.”

July asked him candidly, “You were a Canadian Mountie. Is that the reason you’re still here is because they think Bob’s responsible for our friends’ murder in Canada?”

Novak was equally candid, “Your husband is still a suspect. Yes, there is a warrant out for his arrest, but I have told them nothing yet. This means there aren’t any orders for extradition started. In fact, that is why no one has found you until now. Chamberlain and I have kept your identity a secret to Interpol, who work very slowly. Soon they will inform the RCMP that they have Bob, and then the Bahamian government will have to detain him pending an investigation. I was hoping he would recover quickly, and then Chamberlain and I could get him a cover but,” he gestured, “there is no way we can help him in his current condition.”

Novak went on, “As for me, I’ve become more and more involved with the situation here in the Bahamas. Chamberlain has given me a couple of leads that have led to the arrests of drug dealers in Canada. This has made it worthwhile leaving me here. I do now have some jurisdiction in the Bahamas. I’m hooked up with Interpol, and thanks to Chamberlain’s influence in MI5, they keep me informed and in touch with the other agents in Nassau. We all know what the CIA was up to here, July. We helped them set up El Presidente. We helped supply them with information and even people like yourselves. Typical of them, they did not need us anymore. The German Embassy received rumors of a ship fitted with illegal equipment in Argentina and heading north. El Presidente would not stick his nose out of Colombia. All of a sudden, he was boarding his yacht and sailing right under the CIA’s nose. As far as Ansly was concerned, bring ‘El Presidente on!’ There was no way they could touch him. The CIA just did not seem to realize they were dealing with a ruthless man who had a larger budget to work with than the entire CIA.”