JET - Escape: (Volume 9) (25 page)

“Want a light?” Drago asked in English, and the man nodded. Drago obliged with the lighter he’d purchased from the shopkeeper, and the man sat at a table nearby. “Hot enough for you?” Drago asked, sipping his Coke.

“Scorcher,” the man agreed.

“You crew on that rig?”

“Captain.”

“Oh. Don’t see many like that around here. Lose a bet?”

“Problems. Had to find a port. This was closest.”

“Well, hope it gets fixed soon.”

“That makes two of us.”

“Where were you headed?”

“Cuba.”

“Really? I’ve never been. What’s it like?”

“Ten times cleaner than this.”

“That’s not saying much, is it?” Drago rose and held out his hand. “Name’s Daniel.”

“Adrian. What are you doing here?”

“Writing an article on Haiti. Usual suffering human-interest stuff.”

“Oh. Sure.”

Drago lit one of his own cigarettes and nodded at the
Milan
. “How many crew does a boat like yours use?”

“Dozen to twenty, usually. Sometimes more. Depends.”

“That doesn’t seem like a lot.”

“The big container ships and tankers use even fewer. Doesn’t make sense that the larger they are, the less crew’s required, but there you go. A lot of stuff is automated these days.”

“That’s interesting. And passengers?”

Adrian hesitated. “Usually only cargo. Bananas. Dry goods. That sort of thing.”

“Oh. Another guy, maybe one of your crew, said you had passengers this trip. This ordeal has to be rough for them.”

Adrian didn’t say anything for a long beat. “One of my crew told you that? What did he look like?”

“I thought he was crew. Kind of short. Dark skin. Don’t remember his name.”

The captain finished his beer. “Couldn’t have been one of mine. Nobody’s been off the ship.” He sniffed and pushed his chair back. “Funny you’ve never been to Cuba. I’d recognize a Cohiba cigarette anywhere. Very distinctive aroma. Didn’t realize they exported them.”

“Yeah, there’s a shop in town that sells all kinds. Probably get them cheap because we’re so close here.”

“Could be.” Adrian straightened and tossed his bottle into the trash.

“Captain Adrian, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Captain, I’ve got a pistol leveled at you under this shirt. I really don’t want to blow a hole in you big enough to put my fist through, which the hollow-point slugs it’s loaded with will, but if you don’t do exactly as I say, I’ll have no choice. Do you understand?” Drago lifted his shirt so Adrian could see the gun.

Adrian’s face went pale. “I don’t have much money on me.”

“That’s okay. I do. But that’s not what I’m after.”

“What do you want?”

“I want you to take a walk along the water with me.”

Adrian looked confused. “Why?”

“Because I want to talk to you, and I don’t want anyone to overhear us,” Drago said, standing.

“Who’s going to overhear?” Adrian protested.

Drago ignored the question. “Walk in front of me. South. I’ll be right behind you. Try anything and you’ll get a bullet in the kidneys. Which is a horrible way to check out. You don’t want that.”

Adrian complied, and Drago allowed him to put about ten feet between them. “Where are we going?” Adrian asked.

“Keep walking.”

They did, past the
Milan
, and Drago spotted the floating wreckage he’d selected for his interrogation.

“There’s a fishing boat on your right. The green one. Climb aboard.”

“That thing? It looks like it’s ready to sink.”

“Beauty’s in the eye. Just do it.”

Adrian snorted. “You’re serious? Why can’t we talk up here?”

“Because I said so.”

Chapter 45

The taxi driver groaned and clutched his side, where four bullets had hit him as they stitched through the side of the car. Jet rammed her hand down on his right leg, mashing the accelerator to the floor, and the car surged forward. She grabbed the steering wheel and narrowly missed an overloaded truck coming from the opposite direction, and then swerved, trying to hit the gunman as he drew alongside.

The move surprised him and he nearly lost control as he fought to avoid being struck. He almost collided with a cart selling fruit as he swung into the other lane, and had to pocket his gun to work the clutch.

Another motorcycle drew parallel with the passenger side and she swerved again, twisting the wheel hard to the right, and it dropped back. Hannah screamed as they headed straight for the rear of a van, and Jet let up on the driver’s leg and guided the slowing car around it, scraping one side in a shower of sparks as metal tore at metal.

The driver stiffened, coughed blood down his shirtfront, and groaned out his final breath. Jet pushed his leg aside and reached for his door handle as the car slowed further. Her fingers found the lever as the motorcycle on her left revved toward her, and she threw the door open and pushed the dead driver out of the car with all her might.

The bike had to dodge the body as it rolled to a stop, which gave Jet enough time to slam the door closed and accelerate as she stomped on the gas and downshifted the automatic transmission to get more torque. The car lunged ahead, and she jerked the wheel as the second motorcycle neared, shrieking sideways onto a narrow street before upshifting and straightening out.

Glass blasted from behind her head as a round struck the rear window, and she weaved back and forth in an effort to keep the bikes from pulling alongside. “Lie down on the floor,” she told Hannah, who nodded and slid down. “Stay down there with your eyes closed until I tell you it’s okay to sit back up, okay?”

She was interrupted by the first motorcycle drawing even with her again, and she tromped down on the brake and gave the steering wheel a brutal turn. The bike hit the front fender, sending the rider over the handlebars, tumbling head over heels as his limbs broke from the high-speed collision. The motorcycle continued on, riderless, for a dozen yards before crashing over and skidding into a building.

Jet goosed the accelerator again and resumed her run as the second motorcycle slowed. She watched in the side mirror as the rider stopped by his fallen companion and then tore off after them again.

Another hard turn onto another street, and after five harrowing seconds Jet locked up the brakes and wrenched the steering wheel right, causing the car to drift sideways in a slow, balletic turn. It came to a stop and she floored the pedal, spinning the front wheels as the tires clawed for traction on the dusty pavement.

The motorcycle came around the corner and the rider braked hard when he saw the car hurtling straight at him. He slowed to a near stop as she adjusted her trajectory, and threw himself off the bike when Jet rammed it, sending it cartwheeling through the air in an explosion of plastic and metal. She didn’t wait to see whether the rider had survived or not, and accelerated through the intersection while honking the horn in warning.

When she dared a look in the mirror, she saw pedestrians rushing to where the motorcycle had landed, but couldn’t make out the fallen rider from the sea of islanders. Keeping her attention on the road, she reached down and tapped Hannah on the shoulder.

“You can open your eyes and sit up now.”

Hannah crawled her way up into the seat and looked at her mother. Jet smiled and forced herself to slow, ignoring the screeching from the front axle, which had been damaged in the collision.

“We’re fine,” Jet said. “Those were bad men.”

“Why?”

“They wanted to rob us, I guess.”

“Rob?”

“Take our things.”

Her face grew troubled. “Oh.”

“Don’t worry. Mommy’s not going to let anything like that happen.” Jet cocked her head and listened to the alarming sounds from the front of the car. “Believe me?”

Hannah nodded.

“All right. We’re going to walk for a little, okay? Find another taxi. You ready?”

“Uh-huh.”

Jet pulled into an alley and left the car running as she climbed from behind the wheel and rounded the hood. She opened Hannah’s door and lifted her out, and then set off toward the waterfront, where she hoped she could find a cab before more of the city’s miscreants mistook her for easy prey.

Two blocks later she saw one of the neon-painted pickup trucks and flagged it down. The driver looked at her in surprise as he pulled alongside. She opened the passenger door, sat beside him with Hannah on her lap, and gave him the name of the hotel. He nodded and put the truck in gear, and they bounced their way along the uneven street toward the town center and, hopefully, tranquility.

The inn proved to be a walled oasis situated on a hill overlooking the city and sea, a colonial plantation home turned into a hotel, but with all its stately charm intact. An armed guard stood at the gates and only opened the barriers for the taxi to enter after seeing Jet and Hannah in the cab.

At the front desk, a courteous clerk informed them that a room was available. Jet swallowed hard when she heard the price, but nodded. One night wouldn’t break her. And she had no desire to spend another in the cramped cabin of the ship, as kind as Adrian had ultimately been.

After a shower with Hannah and a rinse of their clothes in the sink, she set their wet things on the terrace and watched as the sun dried them in minutes. Reinvigorated by bottles of juice and water from the minibar and after snacking on the fresh fruit platter left as a welcome gift, Jet led Hannah downstairs and stopped to speak with the concierge. She asked about attorneys with influence, and the concierge leaned toward her, his voice low.

“They’re all liars and thieves here. But my cousin is a top name, and probably the most honest of them.”

“That would be fine. Does he specialize in criminal cases?”

The concierge laughed. “Can’t make a living if you don’t, not here, you can’t.”

Jet took down the information and asked the woman to call a cab. Fifteen minutes later, she was sitting in the reception area of Frantz Aristide, Esq., under the watchful eye of a receptionist who could have moonlighted as a sumo wrestler.

Frantz proved to be jovial and competent, and immediately understood the gravity of Matt’s plight. They agreed on his legal fee and spent a half hour discussing details, the first of which was Frantz accepting a diamond as his payment in full. By the end of the meeting, Jet had a better feeling, although Frantz cautioned her that the system had its problems, and not to take anything for granted. He placed a call to the magistrate while she waited in the lobby, and when he was done, invited her back into his office.

“They wanted twenty-five thousand. I got them down to ten by explaining that you aren’t prosperous world travelers or you wouldn’t have been on a cargo ship to begin with. He agreed.” Frantz looked over his reading glasses at Jet. “So now I need the ten thousand dollars, plus my retainer, plus…the transportation we discussed. Do you have this diamond with you?”

“I can get it today, but I need to find someone to watch my daughter. I don’t want her involved in anything more. She’s sick and needs rest.”

“My receptionist can double as a babysitter if it’s only for a few hours,” Frantz offered.

“That would be wonderful.” She paused. “We have attorney-client privilege, right?”

“Of course. Why?”

“So if I told you about something that happened today, you couldn’t discuss it with anyone?”

Frantz nodded and regarded her. “Within reason. But if you tell me you’re planning on committing a crime, I’d have to alert the appropriate authorities.”

“No, it’s nothing like that. We were attacked by two motorcycle gunmen after leaving the jail. They killed our taxi driver. I was able to escape with Hannah, but I think I ran over one of them. Maybe both.”

Frantz didn’t blink. “Carjackings are a serious problem here. I’m sorry you had to experience it. If you’re worried about the robbers, nobody is likely to mourn them. Most crimes go unreported due to police corruption, so the chances that anyone will volunteer that they saw anything are slim.” He frowned. “You’re lucky you’re alive.”

“That occurred to me.”

“
Bon
. Come, let’s introduce Hannah to Rosie, and get you on your way, shall we?”

“I appreciate this. I don’t want Matt in jail a moment longer than he has to be.”

Frantz nodded again. “It shall be my pleasure to act as the swift arm of justice in this case, and see him freed before nightfall.”

Chapter 46

Matt winced in pain as the guards manhandled him to his feet, the blood-crusted bump on the back of his skull throbbing. He’d put together what had happened, and while he was furious, there was nothing he could do about the guard’s brutality other than remain silent and wish him dead. Haiti was clearly not the place to file a complaint, and his justified fear was that if he did, he’d be inviting far worse.

“You. Face the wall and put your hands behind you,” the nearest guard ordered, and Matt did as he was told. The man clamped handcuffs on him so tightly that they bit into his skin, but he didn’t make a sound. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of a reaction.

Matt was relieved to see that these were different guards than those on duty the night before, or he would have been in fear for his life. Once Matt was cuffed, the guard prodded him in the lower spine with his club. “Turn around, you. We’re moving you to the main jail.”

“What? Why?” Matt demanded.

“Because you got into a fight last night, and those are our orders,” the second guard said.

“But I was attacked. They had knives. I was defending myself.”

The two men looked at each other and smiled. “Right. Prisons everywhere are full of innocent men, they are.”

“Ask him,” Matt said, inclining his head to one of his two cellmates.

“I don’t know nothing, I don’t,” the prisoner said, averting his eyes.

“You saw the whole thing,” Matt accused.

“I don’t want no trouble wit’ nobody.”

“There you go, white bread. Now come on and move, or I’ll have to make you. You really don’t want me to do that,” the first guard said with an evil grin.