Just Add Salt (2) (24 page)

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Authors: Jinx Schwartz

Tags: #Mystery, #Contemporary

BOOK: Just Add Salt (2)
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It took us a while to unwind and remove the spider’s web of bird-poop-covered lines securing us to the mangroves, and throw off all the foliage camouflaging the boat. Our new and best feathered friends that had been using
Raymond Johnson
for a nesting ground lethargically shuffled out of our way, hopping from one perch to another as we destroyed their adopted birdhouse. In just a few days they’d become so used to us that some had to be pushed away to remove the branches. One great blue heron was particularly combative so I left the branch he now called home. I figured once we fired up the engines he’d take a powder.

Making certain the rudders and engine shifters on
Raymond Johnson
were both in neutral, I tied a line from the bow to a rusty cleat on
Se Vende
, and then slowly towed the big boat toward the channel. I was relieved to find there wasn’t much of a current, something we were concerned about; losing control of both boats in a strong running tide could spell disaster.

“Hetta, we’re clear. Hurry up and come back,” Jan called in a quavering voice. I think she pictured herself being swept out to sea alone, in a boat she didn’t know how to operate. I had some of the same concerns. What if
Raymond Johnson
wouldn’t start? I didn’t think I could maneuver the boat back into the mangroves again with
Se Vende,
and we no longer had an anchor or, for that matter, any anchor chain. Before I could rig lines to my spare anchor,
we
’d be floating at the mercy of the tide, which would run six or seven knots later in the day. With our luck, we’d be carried right into San Carlos, and the slimy little hands of Dickless.

I climbed back on board, held my breath and turned the key on the starboard engine. She roared to life, causing Jan to cheer and me to exhale. Then the port engine fired. “Houston, we have liftoff!”

I started the generator and flipped on the watermaker. All systems sprang to life. We donned our walkie-talkie earphone sets and Jan turned to man the bow. I grabbed her arm, gave her a hug, and smiled what I hoped was a confident smile. “On your way down, turn on the ice maker. When we get out of here, I want something on the rocks.” Besides us.

Jan went below, climbed out on the bowsprit and gave me a thumbs up. Without charts, we would be literally feeling our way to Boca de Soledad, and Jan would be our first line of defense. A quick time check told me we had just three hours until dark fell, and with it, any chance we’d have of clearing the bar intact. I slid both engines into gear.

We’d been underway a half hour when, glancing back to make sure
Se Vende
was trailing along behind, and my stomach clenched. A panga was closing on us at warp speed.

“Jan,” I said into my mike as calmly as I could, “we have company. If they’re friendly, look cute. If they aren’t, get inside, pull out the flare gun. Okay?”

She gave me a nod, then looked back just as the panga roared alongside. Two leering fishermen, delighted to see a couple of gringa broads on a yacht, gave us a big wave and veered off towards Lopez Mateos. Rats, after I realized they were just rubbernecking, I hoped they were headed for Boca and we could follow. Why is it that men just never do what you want them to?

Chapter 35

 

We wound our way towards Boca de Soledad with Jan on the bow looking for hazards, and me jockeying the throttles and engines so we only had one prop turning at a time in case we hit an underwater whatever. So far though, the channel remained a fairly steady twenty feet deep. I had the depth sounder alarm set to ten.

It was a beautiful afternoon, with no wind, no clouds. Had we not been running for our lives, it would have been a great cruise.

A small plane passed over us, circled and then headed away. I found myself wishing I was on it, no matter where it was going.

“Hetta, don’t you wish we were up there?” Jan’s voice sounded sad in my walkie-talkie earphones.

“Of course not. We’re perfectly fine down here,” I lied, hoping to cheer her up.

“I guess you’re right. We will be okay, won’t we?”

“Sure. Just a couple more hours and we’ll be out of this infernal bay and headed south.”

“What’s the first thing you want to do when we get to Cabo?” This conversation was starting to sound like one of those war movies where the guys in the trenches are talking about getting back home, and then you hear the whine of an incoming artillery shell. “Check into a five star hotel staffed with hot and cold running pool boys. Drink piña coladas. Dance ‘til dawn.”

“Oh, yes. And I want a facial and a massage. Lots of steak…I’m a little sick of lobster. Uh, and I guess we need to arrange a rescue for Chino and Fabio. If they need it, that is.”

“Before or after our drinks and massage?”

She giggled. “Before, silly. Then what are we gonna do?”

“I think I’ll grab a plane, go put out a contract on Garrison.”

“Garrison? I thought you’d removed that slug from your memory banks.”

“I did, until he sank my VW.”

“You don’t know it was him.”

She had a point. Because of our crappy communications down here, I still didn’t have any details as to who, what, when or why someone dumped embalmed bodies on me, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out he was getting back at me. Tit for tat. Jan and I quit talking, lost in our own thoughts for the next hour. First I’d find out where the son of a bitch lived….

“Hetta!”

I snatched the earphones away from my most likely ruptured eardrums. I felt like throwing them at her, but from Jan’s frantic pointing and jumping, I knew something brown had hit the fan. Looking over my shoulder, I spotted a panga screaming towards us.

“Jan! Get the flare gun. I’m going to neutral. We can’t outrun him, so let’s just see what he’s up to. Maybe he’s just going out to fish, in which case we’ll follow him. This could be our first break.” I really didn’t think so, but maybe saying it would make it true.

Jan joined me on the bridge carrying our flare gun and entire arsenal of flares. While flares can be lethal, they have a short range. If this was one of Lujàn’s goons with automatic weapons, we might as well lob spoons of peanut butter at them.

I grabbed my binoculars, but couldn’t see much yet. “One good thing, it’s a regular fishing panga, not that fancy-schmancy red job we saw Fabio and Chino in.”

The depth alarm began it’s frantic beeping, scaring the crap out of us. I saw we had drifted from the channel. “Jan, you watch,” I handed her the binocs. “I’m going to take us back out into the middle of the channel.”

I put the starboard engine in gear and steered us into deeper water. I could hear the panga closing in and my heart was beating a jillion beats a minute. It didn’t help that Jan burst into tears.

“What?” I thought I said, but my mouth was so dry it probably sounded more like, Aaak.

“Stop the boat,” she managed to hiccup.

I put the boat in neutral, mainly because I couldn’t think of anything else to do. With great dread, I turned to confront our fate. Just as I glanced up, I saw a man bend down and pick up a length of line. Snatching up the flare gun, I took a one-eyed, two armed aim. If anyone tried boarding
Raymond Johnson
, I intended to turn him into shish kabob.

Jan reached out and shoved my arms down. “For God’s sake, Hetta, don’t you recognize your own man?”

The dam burst. All the tension, the fright, the uncertainty came to the surface. I slid into the captain’s chair and began crying like I never do. Both Jan and I were caterwauling by the time Jenks reached us, but he came on board anyway.

He gave Jan a hug, then gathered me into his long, strong arms. “Now, Hetta,” he said, “is this any way for a certified sea wench to act?”

My yowling only increased, until I finally ran out of steam. Suddenly exhausted, I just held on to Jenks, reveling in feeling truly safe for the first time since the hurricane. While I reveled, Jan babbled, telling him we were on our way to Cabo, and boy were we glad to see him.

“Okay, everyone calm down. I’m here and plan to stay. When I got your message, I took the prince up on his offer to—”

I snapped to. “Prince?”

“Yeah. Didn’t you get my message? I met Prince Faoud when he looked me up in Kuwait. He told me how much you missed me and offered me a plane ride to San Diego. At first I told him I needed to finish up my project, but then I got your call for help, and since I couldn’t get hold of Martinez, I took the prince up on his offer. As soon as we got to San Diego, I chartered a plane. Can’t tell you how glad I was to spot you from the air. I gave some guy a fortune to use his panga, and here I am. What are you doing up here? If you’re going to Cabo, why aren’t you taking the same route everyone else does?” He grinned and added, “But then again, why am I even bothering to ask.”

“We have no choice. There’re guys with guns looking for us at the entrada. And Chino and Fabio are, we think, under arrest in San Carlos. There’s so much to tell you, but we first have to get out of here, now. I’ll explain on the way.”

Jan got out the charts and we showed him the Boca, and tide charts. “If we have this calculated right, we can scoot out before it gets really dark.”

Jenks shook his head, and I felt my dander rising when I thought he was going to tell me my harebrained plan wouldn’t work. Instead, he smiled. “Hetta, you’ve come a long way. Not a year ago you wouldn’t have had any idea of how to pull off something like this.”

Mollified, I asked, “You really think it’ll work?”

“Like you said, I don’t see how we have a choice. Let’s get going, and if you don’t mind, I’ll go over your calculations.”

Under most circumstances, those would be fighting words, but I just smiled and said, “Please do.”

Jan looked amazed, then guiltily relieved. I’d talk to her doubting little self later about that slip of loyalty.

After a few minutes, Jenks came back up on the bridge and confirmed my calculations. “My only worry, honey, is the exit channel. If there is one. I wish I’d known what you were up to, I could have checked it out from the air. Oh, well. Maybe I should go ahead in the panga, maybe lead you through.”

“No!” I practically screamed it; now that Jenks was here, I wasn’t letting him go anywhere. I had vast experience with losing men.

“You okay?”

Jan stepped in. “She’s fine. We’re just a lit-tle insecure here and don’t want you to leave. We’ve already lost Fabio and Chino.”

“I understand. Okay, we’ll stick together,” he reached over and put his arm around me, then stood back and gave me a good once over. “You look great.”

“So do you. I can’t even tell you how wonderful it is to see you.” Especially since I figured you were history.

“Have you lost weight, Hetta?”

I have waited all my life to hear those words. I could now die happy.

Which is a good thing, for when I left the warm embrace of Jenks’s arms and words, I spotted a flash of red throwing spray, and aimed at us.

Chapter 36

 

 

“Jenks! That’s them, the guys who have been trying to kill us!”

Jenks picked up the binoculars and zeroed in on the oncoming panga. “They have guns.”

“They always do. Can you tell how many of them there are? Not that it matters, I guess. We’re no match for even one guy with a gun when we ain’t got squat.”

“Yes, we do.”

“No, Jenks, I left them in storage. Fabio insisted.”

“Where’s the potato gun?”

“In the galley locker. Fat lot of good that’ll be.”

“Hetta, stop the boat, I’m going below. You talk to them. Stall. And give me the flare gun.”

“Are you nuts? You want us to sit here like ducks in a pond?”

“We can’t outrun them, that’s a given. You’re smart, figure out something to stall them.” He grabbed the flares, our spare gas can, and disappeared below. Under normal circumstances I would pitch a hissy if anyone took gasoline into my saloon, but this was not the time for trivialities.

Jan gave me a look of dismay. “So, smart girl, figure something.”

I was figuring as fast as I could. “Look cute.”

“Excuse me?”

“Let’s wave, look friendly. Act stupid.”

“That shouldn’t be hard. What is Jenks thinking?”

As if he heard us, I heard him call from below. “Hetta, you got any hairspray?”

This was no time to comment on my lack of coif. After all, we’d been at sea for weeks. “Nope, we used it up at the prince’s picnic.”

“WD-40?”

“Under the galley sink. But it doesn’t do a thing for my hair.”

Jan’s eyes were getting bigger by the minute. Which is about what we had until that panga reached us. The good news is they hadn’t opened fire yet.

“Wave, Jan.”

We both waved and smiled. I could see Lujàn and two Japanese goons clearly now. Jenks said they had guns, but they’d evidently hidden them. A good thing I guess. Maybe this meant they would ask questions first and shoot later. The other good thing? They didn’t know Jenks was on board.

With quaking knees, I went out on deck to greet the bastards. My face hurt from the effort of smiling. I muttered, without moving my lips, “Stall, Jan. We have to stall.” The panga glided to a stop.


Hola
, Señor Lujàn. Boy, are we glad to see you. I’m sorry for that little misunderstanding a few days ago. I guess our captain, Fabio, mistook your intentions. And now he’s abandoned us and we’re completely lost.”

Dickless smiled a little uncertainly. “Your captain has been dealt with.”

My heart jumped in my chest. “Dealt with?”

“He is under arrest in San Carlos. My companions and I have come to, uh, help you back to port.”

“Are we under arrest?” Jan vamped. “Gonna put me in cuffs, I hope?”

All the men except one surly Japanese broke out in leers.

“It could be arranged. Now, I will come on board and my men will guide us back to San Carlos. It will be dark soon, but they know the way.” As he stood up I spotted what looked like an AK47 under his seat. Gulp.

“What a grand idea,” Jan cooed. “Maybe we can celebrate.”

Lujàn stepped onto the swim platform and the panga guys shoved off, drifting a few feet away. I gaily waved again, and stepped back for Lujàn to enter the sundeck. When he turned his back to us, gave the men a
momento
sign with his thumb and forefinger, I saw a gun tucked into his belt, Mexican thug style. Double gulp. Who the hell ever said they didn’t have guns in Mexico?

“Uh, I have to go inside, start the engines again,” I said, much louder than needed, praying Jenks heard me.

“Miss Coffee, I am not stupid, so you should not be either,” Lujàn growled. The gun was in his hand.

“What ever do you mean?”

“I will start the engines. You have fooled me once, when your captain crushed my pangas.”

“Be my guest.” I bowed and waved him inside. Two steps in, he suddenly collapsed, victim to a karate chop to the neck. I quickly slid the door shut. The panga was circling us, waiting for us to get underway.

Jenks stood over Lujàn and stooped to retrieve his gun while I rushed forward to start the engines.

“Jenks, put on his shirt and cap. Maybe we can fake them out for a few more minutes while we think of something.”

Jan roughly stripped Dickless’s checked shirt from his limp body and threw it to Jenks before tie-wrapping Lujàn’s wrists together. It occurred to me that she was just a
lit
-tle too handy with those tie wraps.

The shirt’s sleeves were three inches too short for Jenks, but since Lujàn was chubby, it buttoned easily. The shoulder seams threatened to pop. The baseball cap, pulled low, completed a less than perfect disguise, but dusk was descending, so maybe we’d get a break.

Jenks walked to the door, leaned out and gave the panga a thumbs up and a wave to proceed. I went up to the flying bridge, put the boat in gear and began a slow turn back toward San Carlos. Satisfied that all was well, the panga moved forward, leading the way.

“Now what?” I yelled, knowing the guys in the panga couldn’t hear me over their engine noise.

“When I tell you, make a full throttle turn and head for the opening. When they give chase, I’m gonna blow them to Guatamala.”

“How?”

“Potato gun on steroids.”

“Uh, will it work?”

“Let’s put it this way, if I don’t burn
Raymond Johnson
to the gunwales, we have a good chance.”

That’s not what I was hoping to hear. “Jenks, I don’t think we can get through the entrance at top speed. We’ll run aground.”

“It’s a chance we’ll have to take. After I’ve taken care of these bastards, we’ll slow down. Ready?”

I looked out the entrance. In the fading light I could see a flat sheen of water with breakers on either side. Somewhere between those breaking waves may or may not be a channel deep enough for us to navigate. I took a deep breath. “Ready! Jan, hang on.”

I threw the wheel over and pushed both throttles to full. Good old
Raymond
Johnson’s
props and rudders dug in, we executed a sharp turn and, when I wrestled the wheel back to neutral, we took off like a bat out of hell. Bless you, Mr. Caterpillar.

Intent on where I was going, I let Jan recount what was happening behind us. Having no idea what the range of an AK47 is, I held onto the wheel and hoped the first bullet hit me in the head. Not pretty, but it’s over real fast.

“Hetta! They’ve seen what we’ve done. They’re turning. Oh, shit, here they come.”

“Where’s Jenks?”

“He’s on the sundeck.”

“What’s he doing?”

“I think he’s loading something into the potato gun, but he ain’t got no potato, cuz we ran out days ago. They’re gaining on us. Can’t we go any faster?”

The breakers were getting closer, the bottom coming up fast, but I held my course. “Nope, we’re flat out. How far back are they? What’s Jenks waiting for, to see the whites of their eyes? Never mind. Get ready to duck, because trust me, when they get close enough, they’ll open fire.”

As if on cue, gunfire erupted. It took everything in my being to keep from letting go of the wheel and hitting the deck.

Jan yelled, “They can’t hit us yet. I can see where the bullets are landing in our wake. Uh-oh, they just shot a hole in
Se Vende
.”

“Get down!”

I switched to autopilot and ducked down myself, popping up every few seconds to make sure we were holding course. I ventured one glance back to see Jenks laying on his stomach. Thinking him shot, I about fainted, but then I realized he was propped onto his elbows, taking aim. When a bullet hit with a THUNK into the back of the captain’s chair next to me, I dove again, but not before I saw a streak of pink launch from the back of
Raymond Johnson
.

“Jan, I—”

I never got to finish, for the world around us exploded.

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