Hurricane (13 page)

“
No!” Jenna screamed, grabbing the wine bottle by the neck. The marines hesitated, turning toward her, both surprised. She rolled her shoulder forward, arm extended like a cricket bowler, and she whipped the bottle around as if she was bowling for the stump.

Her aim was true.

The bottle flew like a comet, bottom first, red wine splashing across the room and connected with the head of the marine on the left. He went down like lead. He never had a chance to pull the trigger.

The second marine turned away from Broxton and started to bring his gun to bear on Jenna, but Leon, Trini macho, was across the room, hitting him like an American footballer, his shoulder to the marine’s chest. He tumbled over the falling man, grabbing onto the gun as they rolled.

The marine would have made short work of Leon, but Alex was right behind his friend. The marine was on his back, starting to rise, when Alex stomped on his groin. The marine doubled over and relaxed his grip on the gun and Leon jerked it out of his hand. Alex jumped away from the fallen man, grinning.

“
Nobody moves!” Leon pivoted and moved the gun back and forth, covering the room in large sweeps of his extended arms.

Broxton passed out, his head thudding against the table.

“
Are you all right?” The voice was soft and friendly.

“
I hurt.” He opened his eyes and met her smile through a soft haze.

“
You’ll be okay,” she said, and he started to get up. “Whoa, back down.” She gently pushed him back against the pillows. “The doctor said you’re to stay put for the next few days.”

“
Doctor?” He started to get up again.

“
No.” Her voice was as firm as the hand pressing against his chest.

“
How?”

“
You told the kids to bring you to me.”

“
That much I remember.” His throat hurt, he wanted water. And he remembered the man on the phone. It was stupid coming back to the Normandy.

“
The kids and I got you out just before the police came. You’ve been asleep for the last eighteen hours.” She moved from the bed and brought a glass of water from the bathroom.

“
Here,” she said, helping him to sit up. He took the offered glass and drank. When he was finished he set the glass on the nightstand beside the bed and she helped ease him back onto the pillow.

“
I’m in trouble,” he said.

“
No kidding.”

Gingerly he felt his wound.

“
Wendy’s father is a doctor. Twenty stitches, it’s gonna be a great scar.”

“
Twenty,” he whispered.

“
Lots of blood. Your clothes are ruined.”

He looked around the room taking in the expensive furnishings. Two book lined walls, teak bookcases, a large rolltop desk, teak also, facing a large window. The curtains were drawn. It was a man’s room, covered in wood grain and browns. The bed seemed out of place.

“
How’s the patient?” The voice was deep, baritone and reassuring. A doctor’s voice.

“
Better than before,” Broxton said.

“
That’s what a doctor needs to hear.”

“
You’re Wendy’s father?”

“
Indeed I am. And you’re the infamous young man everybody is looking for.”

“
I don’t understand.”

“
I don’t think he knows,” Jenna said.

“
Really? How interesting.” The doctor was short and thin, a combination that made his baritone voice all the more noticeable. His close cut grey hair stood out like snow on a mountain top against his high, dark forehead. He wore a soft white silk shirt over a pair of faded Levi’s.

“
You should tell him,” she said. Broxton watched her hands. She was squeezing the fingers of the left with the right and they were shaking slightly.

“
Yes,” the doctor said, “I suppose I should.”

“
Tell me what?”

“
Do you know what happened to Mr. Chandee our last attorney general?”

“
He was assassinated, about six months ago.”

“
They’re saying you killed him.”

“
They have a man in custody.”

“
They released him this morning. Seems they have a couple of witnesses who say you did it. Your picture is on the front page of the Guardian and you were all over the news last night.”

“
I didn’t do it,” Broxton whispered, “and they know it.”

“
Oh, I believe you. You stood against two strangers just to see that a fourteen year old girl was safe. A real assassin would have minded his own business and turned away, leaving my daughter and her friends to whatever fate awaited them.”

“
I have to get out of Trinidad.”

“
That is being arranged,” the doctor said. “Wendy is out buying you clothes as we speak. In a few hours you’ll leave on a sailboat bound for St. Martin. Normally, for a wound such as yours, I would prescribe bed rest for at least a week, but in your case it would be very bad for your health. There is talk of a reward and once the figure is announced, and I’m sure it will be quite large, we can expect those boys to start talking. Nothing stays secret in Trinidad for very long.”

“
I don’t have my passport,” Broxton said.

“
Don’t worry. You won’t be on the crew list. None of the islands board boats as policy. The captain takes the ship’s papers and crew’s passports to customs and immigration. The papers are inspected and the passport is stamped. It’s sort of like an honor system.”

“
How do they control illegal immigration, drugs, cocaine, marijuana.”

“
Simple,” the doctor said. “They don’t.”

“
That’s crazy,” Broxton said, then added, “What about the US Coast Guard.”

“
Ah, yes, there is always them. This boat will take about two months getting to St. Martin, stopping at all the popular anchorages along the way. It will very much look like a normal cruising sailboat enjoying the ever popular Caribbean. It will do its utmost to avoid your Coast Guard.

“
Why?”

“
It’s carrying an awful lot of marijuana.”

“
A drug boat?”

“
What can I say, it’s my brother’s boat. He smuggles marijuana into the British Virgins and alcohol back into Trinidad.”

“
I don’t get it. You can get grass in Tortola and there is certainly no shortage of rum in Trinidad.”

“
There are taxes and duties on alcohol in Trinidad and our marijuana is much better than that up north. My brother does all right. He won’t make millions, but he likes his work and the sense of adventure that goes with it.”

“
I can’t go on a drug boat.” Broxton said.

“
And you can’t stay here. How long do you think it will take even our inept police to figure out where you are. Besides, my brother has made arrangements to get you a British passport.”

‘
You’re kidding?”

“
Certainly not. T-Bone knows people, slips them a few extra dollars, so to speak, to guarantee the smooth flow of his goods. You will have your passport. Now if you will excuse me, I have to be at the hospital in half an hour. Jenna will see to everything.”

“
Saying thank you hardly seems like enough.”

“
No, Mr. Broxton, it is I who should thank you. You came to my daughter’s aid when most would have turned their backs,” he said. Then he was through the door and gone.

“
And you?” Broxton said, turning to Jenna, “why do you help me?”

“
I don’t know. I’ve always had a space in my heart for the underdog, and it’s partially my fault you’re here. I want to make up for it.”

“
I don’t understand.” he said.

“
I called my sister and told her you’d been by the restaurant and that you might be coming back. The police went by her house, and not knowing any better she told them.”

“
Aren’t you afraid you’ll get in trouble?”

“
Dr. Powers will fix it. After it’s obvious you’re no longer in Trinidad the pressure will be off and it will all blow over.”

“
Pressure?”

“
Of course. You don’t think Trinidad’s finest is behind this, do you? My lord, they couldn’t find Long Circular Mall on a clear day if an informant told them where it was. It’s the United States that wants you, Trinidad could care less. They know you didn’t kill Chandee. Once you’re gone, you’ll be forgotten.”

“
How soon before I leave here?”

“
In the morning, you set sail just before dawn.” She got up from the side of the bed and started for the door. “Get as much rest as you can.”

It was ten to midnight when Jenna woke him. He rubbed his eyes and ran his tongue over his teeth. He needed a toothbrush, a shower and a lot more rest.

“
The police have been to Leon’s. We have to go.”

He sat up. He was naked under the covers.

“
Put these on.” She handed him a pair of worn, work jeans. He pulled off the covers and slipped into the jeans without underwear. She didn’t avert her gaze and he didn’t care. “Now this.” She was holding a batik print shirt, about a size too large. He put it on.

“
My shoes,” he said, and she bent over and picked them up.

“
No socks,” she said.

“
It’s okay.” He put on the loafers and stood up slowly. A dull fire burned in his stomach.

“
Where’s the doctor?”

“
He’s gone. He decided to take the family up to the Asa Wright nature center for a few days.”

“
Good time to see the birds,” Broxton said.

“
He didn’t want them here.”

“
I guess I can understand that,” he said, and he could. The man had done enough, risked enough. He steadied himself on his feet, feeling light headed. He took a deep breath and winced as he felt his stomach muscles expand against the stitches. Then he took a step forward, stumbled and caught himself, grabbing onto the desk, rattling the roll top.

“
Quiet,” she whispered, and he carefully followed her out of the house. They stopped on the front porch, where he inhaled the cool night, tasting the air. It smelled like a storm was coming soon, but it wasn’t the electricity in the air that set his arm hairs tingling. Something wasn’t right. Why did he have to be quiet?

“
That’s my car, there,” she whispered, pointing to a white mini van, parked under a giant weeping willow. The street lights were out, the neighborhood was dark. All the better to kill someone, he thought.

“
Nice,” he said as they made their way down the walk toward the van.

“
Two weeks old. I’m going to use it in my business.”

“
I thought you were a waitress.”

“
Not forever. I’ve got plans.”

“
And ambition.”

“
Right,” she said, adding, “I’m going to do day tours for the yachties, you know, Caroni Swamp, the vegetable market, stuff like that.”

“
And up to Asa Wright Nature Center,” he said.

“
Yes, that, too.”

She unlocked and opened the left hand, passenger door for him and he felt a chill run up his back as he wondered who was watching. He reached over and unlocked the driver’s door while she walked around the front of the vehicle. He watched while she put the key in the ignition, but he reached out with a gentle squeeze and stopped her from starting the engine.

“
What?” she said, startled.

“
I’m not getting very far tonight am I?”

“
How did you know?”

“
You were whispering in the house. If nobody was home, why whisper?”

“
Ah.”

“
Why?” he asked.

“
For the money,” she said, and he flexed his arm. She gasped, then he relaxed and let her have her hand back.

“
Where is it going to happen?”

“
I’m supposed to jump out of the van when we stop at the light just before the highway.”

“
Do they know about the yacht club?”

“
No.”

“
Where do they think you’re taking me?”

“
To the Hilton. I didn’t want to involve the doctor’s brother.”

“
Why not?”

“
Because I have some money invested in the cargo.”

“
Small country,” he said.

“
What are you going to do now?” she asked.

“
Go a different way,” he said. He saw the car parked up the block. It was a hot night and they gave themselves away by having the windows down. Nobody left their car unlocked anywhere in Trinidad, not unless they were police officers and they were sitting in it.

“
Okay,” he said. “The damage is done. I can’t go back inside, because they know about the doctor and I can’t go with you because they’re waiting for me up the road. I guess my only option is to run for it.”

“
You don’t have a chance,” she said.

“
Not much of one, you’re right, but better than if I let you drive me into their waiting arms.”

“
It was a business deal. They offered a lot of money. Nothing personal.” She was cool, not the least ruffled that he caught her out.