Hurricane (28 page)

“
How?”

“
The original plan was for the Tanakas to take the yacht back to the US, then we’d find a way to get it back from them.”

“
How?”

“
Not what you’re thinking,” Karl Schneidler said. “We’d buy it. Usually if you give someone substantially more than something’s worth, they sell.”

“
But Stardust went down.” Broxton said.

“
Yes, and that amplified the problem. Dieter used his own money to finance the Stardust operation. Paid the Salizar Cartel cash. They were so sure his plan would work that they sold him the next batch on terms, a quarter up front, a quarter when the boat sails and the balance when he realized his profits from Stardust.”

“
But Stardust went down.” Broxton said again.

“
And the magic man ran off with the second payment and then some.”

“
Explain?”

“
Dieter was using the shipyard to launder money for the Salizars.”

“
How much did he lose? Broxton asked.

“
The second payment was three hundred thousand, US.”

“
And the Colombian’s money?”

“
Over eight million dollars,” Schneidler said.

“
Ouch,” Broxton said.

“
The magic man is dead and the money is missing.”

“
Who is this magic man?”

“
Michael Martel, the Magic Man, he did an international trade in magic tricks. Allowed him free access to come and go to the States. He carried the money back.”

“
The prosecution witness in the Chandee murder?”

“
The same.”

“
Magic,” Broxton said, “is supposed to be a good thing. A thing for kids and adults who wish they were kids.”

“
This magic man wasn’t a kiddy magician, he moved major money from country to country.”

“
So the money’s gone?” Broxton said.

“
Yes and no. Martel had a luggage locker in St. Martin. Dieter thinks the money is there.”

“
So why doesn’t he just go get it?”

“
He doesn’t have the key.”

“
He could create a diversion, break into the locker,” Broxton said.

“
He doesn’t know which locker.”

“
How do you know this?” Broxton asked.

“
I asked Martel’s wife.” Schneidler said, and Broxton knew what methods he probably used to extract the information.

“
So like I said, the money’s lost?”

“
Maybe not. His wife said that he wore the key around his neck. Find the key, find the money.”

“
Where’s the key?” Broxton asked.

“
Dieter thinks Julie Tanaka might have it, because she found his body floating in the gulf. He’s a little paranoid about her because she’s got his cocaine. She’s on her way to St. Martin right now. Her daughter has a flight out on the fifteenth.”

“
So that’s where you were going. To St. Martin.”

“
Yes.”

“
No.” Broxton said and he jerked the wire, severing Karl Schneidler’s testicles from his body with a howling scream that rippled across the bay.

Schneidler wasn’t going anywhere, so Broxton left him and went below. In the engine room, He found a tool box and took out a strong screwdriver. It was hot in the small room, and Broxton wiped some sweat from his brow before he opened the door to the engine compartment. He lay down on his belly, reached under the main engine and closed the thru-hull seacock.

Then he undid the hose clamp with the screwdriver and pulled the hose off of the seacock. His lips curled up into a smile as he reopened the seacock and he was almost laughing as he scooted back, watching the ocean rush into the boat.

The engine compartment bilge pumps came on and started tossing water out of the boat. They were doing their job well. They were designed to take out more than a damaged hose would allow in. He jerked the wires from the float switches and the pumps shut down.

Satisfied, he went topside and looked out across the bay.

The cockpit cushions were still off, the hatch cover still open. He found two full five gallon, plastic jerry cans of gasoline. He took one of them below, where he stripped a sheet off the bed in the aft cabin. Then he grabbed a box of wooden matches from the galley and went to work.

The cool air coming in from the open hatch caused him to shiver as it met the sweat on his skin, but he paid it no attention as he tore the sheet in half and rolled one of the halves so that it resembled a white snake. He thought about the gasoline for a second, but he wanted something that would burn slower. Then he saw the hurricane lamp hanging in the galley. He took it down, poured the kerosene over the rolled sheet half, opened the jerry can and stuffed one end of the soaked sheet half in the spout.

Karl Schneidler was still screaming on deck, and every loud agonizing blast from the German sent ripples of pleasure through Broxton as he set the giant Molotov cocktail in the center of the salon. He looked around, saw a pack of cigarettes by a paperback book. Night Witch, by Jack Priest. A horror story. How fitting. Then he took a cigarette, lit it, laid out the rolled sheet half, doused the book in kerosene and set it on the end of the rolled sheet, broke the filter off the cigarette and set it between the pages of the paperback, thus making about a twenty minute fuse.

By the time Broxton was back on deck Schneidler was weeping. Broxton had the other half of the rolled sheet around his neck as he lowered the second jerry can into the dinghy and motored over to Challenge.

He left the outboard running as he climbed aboard the twin ship, opened the thru hull, poured kerosene throughout the ship and set up the gas can cocktail in the center of the salon. He lit another cigarette, found a magazine instead of a paperback, doused it with kerosene, broke about three quarters of the cigarette off, giving himself about five minutes to get away, dashed up the hatch and leapt into the dinghy.

He cranked the throttle full on and zoomed away from the boats. When he judged himself a safe distance away he cut the gas, and waited. Snake Eyes went first, in a blinding, blazing explosion. Challenge blasted apart a few seconds later.

Chapter Fifteen

The depression had a radius of over three hundred miles as it moved into the clockwise winds of the Bermuda High at seventeen knots. Still headed west, turning day to dark, sparking lightning between the layers of storms. Winds in the depression whipped up to forty knots and the National Hurricane Center gave it a name. Darlene.

The British frigate, HMS Leeward, cruising below the thundering sky, noted seas at twenty feet. They were on course home when they received a mayday from the fishing trawler Northern Lights, out of Holland. The trawler had capsized by the time the Leeward arrived on the scene. Darlene had claimed her first victims.

They motored into Rodney Bay on the northern end of St. Lucia at dawn. “That looks like a good spot,” Meiko said, pointing into the sun. Julie nodded and stepped out of the cockpit to get ready to drop the anchor. The deck was slippery with salt water spray and she moved forward with one hand on the boom till she reached the mast, then she took two quick, cautious steps and grabbed onto the inner forestay. The morning air chilled her as she held her hand up against the bright sun, squinting into it, and she shivered when she saw the two masts sticking out of the calm water. She pointed right and Meiko turned the wheel away. Julie made sure they were well away from the two sunken ships before she dropped the anchor. Once she was satisfied the holding was good, she gave Meiko the sign to cut the engine.

“
What do you think happened to them?” Meiko asked as Julie stepped back into the cockpit.

“
Don’t know,” Julie said. She picked up the binoculars and studied the two masts sticking out of the water at odd angles. She felt sorry for the owners of the sunken boats and she wondered how long they’d been under water and if the owners had insurance.

Twenty minutes later they were having coffee while waiting for bacon and eggs in Typhoon Willie’s. Julie looked out at Fallen Angel and for the thousandth time wished she wasn’t quite so big. She couldn’t handle it by herself, but she was determined not to give up the boat.

“
So how are you going to get by?” Meiko said, reading her thoughts.

“
I’ll try to find a couple of women I can get along with in St. Martin, or maybe a young couple just starting out. I’ll manage.”

“
I could stay.”

“
We’ve been through that. One more semester, remember?”

“
I remember.”

Four men pulled up chairs at the table next to theirs. They were all young, strong, European and good looking. Julie thought they’d make a good advertisement for surf wear.

“
Morning,” Meiko said.

“
Good morning,” one of them answered back. Julie detected no hint of an accent. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe they were American.

The breakfast came and Julie picked up a crisp piece of bacon. She bit into it and her lip when she heard the men start speaking among themselves. In German. She tasted the salty bacon mingled with the saltier taste of her own blood. She swallowed and ran her tongue along the inside of her lower lip, along the cut, while she glanced at the young men at the next table.

She shivered, but told herself that the possibility that these men were connected with the Schneidler twins and their twin boats was so remote as to be unthinkable. There were a lot of wonderful German sailors cruising the Caribbean. She looked away from the young men and caught Meiko’s eye and she could feel the chill running up her daughter’s back.

“
It’s okay,” Julie said softly, barely above a whisper. “It’s just a coincidence.”

“
I know, Mom, but it still gives me the chilly willies.”

After they finished breakfast they went to Customs and Immigration to check in. It was a quarter to nine, but the officer was already in and willing to do the paperwork. Julie and Meiko were welcomed into his office and he bade them sit at two chairs across from his desk. He was friendly, smiled large, and when they finished the forms and had their passports stamped, Julie asked about the two sunken boats in the harbor.

“
Happened last night. Deliberate.”

“
For the insurance?” Julie asked, feeling her own chilly willies.

“
Someone didn’t like them. Set them afire. Then took off.”

“
Who would do such a thing?” Julie asked.

“
We’re looking into that,” he said, then he leaned forward and lowered his voice in the way Islanders do when they gossip. “They was two brothers, same kind of boat. One got killed, the other is mad, mad.”

“
Do you have any clues?” She leaned across his desk and lowered her voice to match his.

“
We had a boat in here for a few days, anchored farthest out. Didn’t check in.”

“
Didn’t check in?”

“
No, funny thing, those two sunken boats, they didn’t check in either. Happens sometimes, folks don’ think they have to obey the law.”

“
They give us all a bad name.” Julie smiled at the man, wanting more information. “Are the crew still on the island?”

“
Course,” the customs officer said. “Only happen last night, you don’ think we let them leave so quick. Besides, we wanna know why they didn’ check in.”

“
Mom,” Meiko said as soon as they were outside the door. “We have to leave right now. Once we’re away from here we’re safe.”

“
I think you’re right,” Julie said.

“
You wanna go back in and check out?”

“
No, let’s just go to the boat and get the H out of here.”

“
That’s got my vote, big time,” Meiko said. They went straight to the dinghy dock, climbed in their inflatable and zoomed out toward Fallen Angel.

“
There’s something I wanted to tell you,” Meiko said when Julie throttled back as they approached Fallen Angel.

Now what? Julie knew that tone, halfway between a whisper and a murmur. Meiko used to sound like that when she was a little girl and got caught doing something wrong. Julie put the outboard in neutral and waited.

“
I want to go back on the fifteenth instead of the thirtieth.”

“
That’s less than a week to get to St. Martin.”

“
We can be there in two days,” Meiko said, if we sail straight through. We’ll have plenty of time to get the boat into the yacht club.”

“
We’d have to change the tickets. I don’t know if we can do it on such short notice.”

“
Actually, that’s already been taken care of,” she said with an even quieter voice.

“
How?” Julie fought to keep the tension out of her voice as her grip tightened on the outboard’s throttle.

“
When I radioed Victor from Alice and Chad’s boat. He’s going to be at the boat show in Miami and I figured since I had to go home for that last semester, I’d see him one more time, before I started cracking the books.”

“
When were you going to tell me?” Julie tightened her hand on the throttle and the engine revved a bit. She relaxed her grip and the engine quieted back down.

“
I’m telling you now,” Meiko said.