The Atlas Murders (35 page)

“Those Cuban fuckers must
have got her. There’s half a million bucks in that case and a fortune in
diamonds.” He looked and saw one of her high heeled shoes on the ground, then
scanned the park, listening with a cunning borne from years of Mafia training.

“They must have taken her
with them,” he said, in a low resigned tone.

The smaller of the other two,
heavy set with black oiled back hair, drawled. “Are we going to the yacht boss?”

 “No, get the bags into the
auto, we’re going to the airport, I need to get to a hospital.”

A car swung round in the park
and Henry saw them in the headlights. A chauffeur threw their bags into a red
Dodge and drove away. Henry then looked over to where the attack had taken
place and saw the keys dangling out of the door of the car above the gory body.
Keeping low, he ran over and grabbed them out of the lock. He retreated back
into the dark and waited for Tukola to make a move. Tukola was holding the case
lying on the ground alongside the woman. He had heard what the Mafia men had
said to her.

“You’re one lucky woman. If
it wasn’t for me you’d be dead meat. Who was that guy giving the orders?”

 She was trembling, with the realization
of how close she had come to dying.

“He’s Meyer Lansky
,
the Jewish son of Polish parents, born in
New York and a powerful Mafia figure. He controls most of the casinos and night
clubs in Havana.”

 “What were you doing for him?”

 “I was his secretary and
part time girlfriend,” she hesitated, “sometimes.”

 Tukola taunted her in a slow
and vibrato tone, “you certainly seem to be out of favor right now. We better
get out of here and what about this yacht he was on about, where’s she berthed?”

 “She’s at the yacht club.”

 “How many crew has she?”

 “Only one the captain, and
sometimes we might take on some Cubans for the cooking and as waiters, but
there’s only Ernest on her now.”

 “Ernest I presume is the
captain?”

 She sat up, straightened out
her dress and was regaining a little more composure.

“Yes, he’s the captain.”

 Tukola stood up and pulled
her to her feet.

“What’s your name?”

 “Just call me Lisa Sue,
that’s what everybody calls me.”

 He gave her beautiful face a
serious look.

“Ok Lisa Sue, how far is it
to the yacht club?”

She tried to take the case
off him.

“I’ll carry this,” she
breathed.

 “No, I better look after it,
a shame if it got lost.”

Taking her by the wrist, they
went to the car and she looked around for the keys.

“They’re gone,” she
exclaimed, using the light from the interior of the car with the door open to
search the ground.

Tukola turned the body over
and looked underneath it, but found nothing.

“Right then, how are we
getting to this yacht club, can we walk?”

 “Walk!” she protested,
kicking off her remaining high shoe.

“The keys to that Buick there
are at the hotel’s front desk. That’s one of the boss’s cars used by the boys
as a run around. Stay here and I’ll go get the keys.”

 “Hold it; you can’t go in
there like that. You look like a butcher out of a slaughterhouse; you’ve blood
all over your clothes.”

 She looked down and could
see the dark outline of blood on her lemon colored blouse. She saw the hotel
was in darkness and ventured a last gasp effort to get away.

“They won’t see me in the
dark and I’ll go to my room and change then get the key.”

 “Right come on,” he put a
hand around her waist. The lobby was in partial darkness except for a small oil
lamp at the front desk. They walked on unnoticed to her room. While she was in
the shower, he had a look around the room with the help of an emergency oil
lamp. Hanging on the wall was a large photo of her in a bikini, lying on the
deck of a yacht. The yacht’s lifebelt bore the name, “Marita Ann.” She came out
drying her hair with a towel wrapped around her.

“Is that you he enquired,
pointing to the photograph?”

 “Yes, she purred and let the
towel slip.”

She stood naked, her firm
rounded breasts wobbled as she dried them, rubbing her dark nipples between her
fingers. They were hard and the color of bruised grapes. She walked to the bed
and lay back on the silk sheets, watching Tukola, who pulling his clothes off, couldn’t
contain himself. She reached under the mattress and took out a small hand gun
which she slipped under the pillow. She welcomed him onto her with open raised
legs. Then she felt him rise above her, his strong hands closed on her throat. She
gasped and reached under the pillow and took the gun. She pointed it at his
head and as she pulled the trigger the pressure on her neck snuffed out her
life. The bullet had only grazed Tukola’s right temple. He jumped off her and
felt the blood dripping down his face. The fucking bitch! he screamed as he
stuffed the bed sheet into her mouth. In a wild frenzy he got his knife and cut
off a nipple and part of her genitals. He dressed quickly, put his hand in his
back pocket and pulled out two fish hooks. He put one in her lip and the other
in her nose. Bitch! he swore as he opened a drawer and pulled out a white linen
handkerchief. He opened the case and took it over to the lamp to see what was in
it. To his astonishment, the case was packed with bundles of crisp hundred
dollar bills. He opened another small compartment in the case and a pouch fell
out, it was tied with a string. His hands trembled as he opened it and tipped
the contents out onto a small table. His eyes couldn’t believe what he saw,
sparkling diamonds as big as peanuts. He replaced them and went back to the
corps. He took three rings off her fingers and a pearl necklace and a gold
watch. “You won’t need these. Where you’ve gone wealth doesn’t matter.”

He picked up the case looked
out the window overlooking the parking area and saw it was still dark.

The Marita Ann, he repeated
over and over in his mind as he slipped out of the room and tried to find the
stairwell in the increasing gloom.

Meanwhile, Henry had wandered
around the darkened corridors looking for the woman’s room. For a generous tip a
bellhop told him where the woman’s room was. He listened for a minute and
hearing not a sound, he opened the door quietly. Peering in to his horror he saw
the body on the bed. He took the gun out of her hand and left the room to try
to find Tukola. When he reached the bottom stair he heard him arguing with a
staff member about car keys.

“Who are you, I never see you
with Meyer Lansky or his men?”

 “I am working for him now,
so please give me the keys.”

 “I will call the manager.”

 Tukola grabbed him by the
hair and stuck a gun into his face. “Give me the fucking keys now.”

 Terrified, the young man
pissed in his pants; his urine pooling on the floor as he grabbed the key off
the board and handed it to Tukola.

“Not so easy pal. You come
with me and if it’s the wrong key you’re a dead man.”

He walked to the blue Buick opened
the door and pushed the terrified young Cuban into the driver’s side.

 “Right, start the engine,”
snarled Tukola, from the back seat. “Drive to the yacht club and no funny
business or I’ll blow what few brains you have all over this car.”

 Henry ran to the Cadillac as
the Buick swung round and the headlights lit up the area. He threw himself onto
the ground and hid beside the dead Mafia man’s body, as the lights passed he
saw something sparkle close to the dead man. It was a very expensive looking
diamond bracelet, which must have belonged to the girl now lying dead in the
hotel room. He reached over and took it, then jumped into the Cadillac and
followed the Buick.

It wasn’t far to the yacht
club and with very little traffic on the main road he stayed a good distance
behind. When he saw the Buick turn off the road and stop, he turned off his
lights and cruised up as close as he dared. He got out and walked cautiously up
to within ten yards of the car then he heard a shot. He saw Tukola jump out and
walk to the harbor. Henry ran on and looked into the Buick. The young Cuban lad
was slumped over the steering wheel, shot behind the left ear.

Tukola was very visible
against the sea under the light of a bright moon. With the attaché case gripped
tightly he walked along searching for the boat. He walked along the row of
yachts then with purpose he stopped, considered his position before walking toward
boat.

 Meyer Lansky arrived at the
airport amid confusion and organized panic as hundreds of people waited to
board planes to take them away from Cuba. He got out and stood at the car
trying to piss; his medical complaint was restricting his water flow and it
caused him immense pain. “Fuck it, if only I could have a good piss,” he
groaned.

“Jose, get the bags and you Tabbo,
help him get them to our plane,” he barked, pointing to a plane on the runway.
He zipped up his flies and walked to the aircraft which was nearly loaded to
capacity with passengers for Miami.

He grabbed Jose by the arm.

“Hey kid, I don’t know when
I’ll see you again, hope this Castro lets us back in when this is all over.”

Jose Manuel Frasco was a
young Cuban who had done well for himself while working for Lansky. He was
sorry to see his boss leave. Jose had two sisters working the casinos making
good money and they all lived well. He shook hands with Lansky and caught a
fist full of hundred dollar bills.

 “I hope you come back boss,
you’ve been real good to me and my family.”

“Jose, will you go to the
yacht club and see Ernest on the Marita Ann and tell him to take the boat to
Key West. If you hear anything about Lisa Sue let me know. You have my Miami
address at the hotel.”

 Jose had tears in his eyes.
This was the end of the good life for him.

“I will go to the yacht club
right now and I will find out what I can about Lisa Sue, boss.”

 “Jose the car is yours and
if I don’t come back look after it.”

 “I sure will boss, thank you.”

As Jose stood watching the
plane taxiing down the runway, he knew that he would almost certainly never see
his boss again.

Jumping back into the car, he
headed straight for the yacht club.

Chapter
Thirty-One

 Tukola saw the name and
searched for movement on the Marita Ann, there was light in the cabin, the
small ports threw a glimmer onto the deck. He walked on board and shouted,
“Ernest.” He waited apprehensive and wary. The cabin door opened and a tall
blonde man thinning on top, in his late forties sprightly and cheery sprung
onto the deck. He stood in faded denims and a worn, blue stripped shirt, a lamp
in his hand.

“Hello there, you called?”

 He stood about six foot and
Tukola sized him up before he spoke.

“Yes sir, it was I who called
out your name.”

 “How did you know my name
and what is your business?”

 “I have a job to do for Mr. Lansky;
he sent me here.”

“Ok, come below and tell me
what your business is.”

 He reminded Tukola of the
Rangoon’s officers with their very well spoken English accents. He looked
around the small cabin and put the case on the floor under the table and sat
down.

“You see Mr. Lansky has flown
out and he gave me this,” he said, holding up the case.

 “He wants me to take it to
Georgetown on the Cayman Islands where I will be met by a friend and hand it
over to him.”

 Ernest looked with suspicion
at this bedraggled colored man and noticed the congealed blood on the side of
his face.

“I have heard nothing from Mr.
Lansky about this plan to go to Cayman. What is so important with that case?”

 Tukola was worried the
captain was going to cause a problem. He put the case on the table and opened
it.

 “Holy Christ, the captain
exclaimed,” taking out a bundle of dollar bills. “He gave this lot to you to
take to Cayman?”

 Tukola thought fast. “Yes, he
was afraid that Castro’s men at the airport would confiscate any hard currency
going out of the country.”

 “When do you want to sail,
would we say at first light, seven hundred hours?”

“He said we should get out
immediately as soon as I got to the boat.”

 “It’s not too easy get out
of here in the dark. There’s bugger all lights and what few were there are out
now. I have to go to the dock and report our departure.”

“Do you have to do that? It
will only bring attention to us. We need to get away before some of the gangs
that are plundering everywhere come this way.”

 A yacht alongside threw off
her moorings and her big powerful engines pushed her out to sea. Ernest went
out on deck to see who it was. A woman with a head of unruly windswept blonde
hair was at the wheel, and turned to look over to Ernest.

“We’re leaving, heading for
Dominican, things are not too good in Havana and my husband, Charles thinks you
should move sooner than later.”

 “What do you think, captain?
I say we should go right away. If we lose this case of cash will you tell the
boss?”

 Ernest went below and
started the engine, the big Rolls Royce hummed into life.

“Right take in some lines
when I let them go on the quay.”

Ernest went and loosed three
lines leaving one holding. Then he ran to the dock office and looked inside;
there was no one on duty, typically Cuban officialdom, he muttered to himself.
He went in and signed the log and wrote departing at twenty three hundred hours
- Marita Ann. Heading for Georgetown in The Cayman Islands. He ran down the
slip, threw off the last rope and jumped on board. Tukola heaved in the ropes
and coiled them. Ernest noticed he did so in a very professional way. They were
pulling away when Jose reached the dock. He saw the Marita Ann slowly moving
away and he shouted.

“Ernest, the boss said to go
to Key West, do you hear me Ernest?”

 “Yes Jose, I hear you. I’ll
be in Key West tomorrow.”

“Good luck Ernest,” he
shouted back over the noise of the throbbing engines.

 Henry stood on the dock and
watched the big powerful engines throw up a white luminous wake. Where too now?
Tukola will never let him bring her to Key West; the Mafia boys would have him
dead within minutes of arriving. He’ll go to the Cayman’s. He watched Jose walk
dejectedly up the dock. He stopped to examine the Cadillac coupe, looked inside
and retrieved the keys. He saw the Buick parked off the road in among the
trees. He opened the door and recoiled with horror when he saw the body slumped
over the steering wheel. He leaned in and took the keys out of the ignition ran
to his car and sped away.

Henry pondered his position;
he thought that all was lost because Tukola had got away. He sat on a bollard
looking at the dozen or so yachts tied up and contemplated how many will be
there this time tomorrow - probably none. They’ll all get out of here as soon
as daylight comes, another six or seven hours. He walked down and noticed they
didn’t observe the naval tradition of taking down their ensign at night. He
spotted a union jack lying limp, he walked down the rickety slip and saw she
was named, ‘Sea Falcon’ and registered in Bristol. The yacht next to them was
astir, people moving on deck and lights aglow; she flew the stars and stripes,
a bigger and better reason to get out. Their engines started and lines thrown
off, she left with a powerful drive of her engine, and the wash rocked the Sea Falcon
against the dock. She surged and ranged along against her mooring ropes. Lights
were switched on and two people came running up the companionway and out of the
hatch onto deck. A middle-aged man with a buxom lady in tow cursed those non
considerate blasted yanks who knew nothing about seamanship. She began to
settle again and he checked the ropes, he shouted with relief. “Maud, it looks
like she’s ok, those people haven’t a clue, no manners either.”

 She looked over the side,
“no damage Roy, just lucky though.”

 Henry took a chance and
walked half way down the ramp, he stood and shouted. “Goodnight sir, I couldn’t
help notice what happened, not cricket I must agree with you.”

 They both looked with
suspicion but the British accent swung them over.

 “Where do you come from?”
enquired Roy, cautiously.

 “A small town on the
Manchester ship canal called Runcorn. Have you heard of it?” “Yes,” Maud
ventured, “my mother comes from Liverpool.”

 Roy waved an arm.

 “Come on board and have a
cup of tea.”

Henry noticed Sea Falcon had
more sail than engine power, an easy cruiser around the islands. Maud had the
kettle on the little gas cooker, and with typical British hospitality he was
asked to seat himself.

“I’m Roy Watt and my wife is Maud.”

 “Henry Carter, a bit of history
attached to my baggage. I’ve just left a ship docked in Havana called Rangoon,
and if you’re curious as to my business here which I’m sure you both are, I’d
be only too pleased to tell you.”

 Roy sat and cautiously spoke
in a soft conspiratorial tone. I suppose you’re a fellow countryman and we’d
like to help if that’s what you need, isn’t it Maud?”

 She poured three mugs of tea
and placed a small plate of plain biscuits before them. “Are you in some kind
of trouble mister; I missed your name.”

“Henry Carter, and I’m not in
any kind of personal trouble as you say, but I could do with a bit of help in
my job as an undercover detective hunting a very dangerous man who was also a
crewman on the Rangoon. He was on the yacht that sailed earlier; she is called
the Marita Ann.”

 Roy perked up like a boy
scout who has been assigned a very assiduous job. “She was owned by those very
wealthy Americans.” He looked at Maud for confirmation, and permission to
reveal more information.

“Some say they were Mafia,
you know, they owned night clubs and casinos.”

 “Yes,” agreed Maud and added
in a low undertone, “they also had some very raunchy parties from time to time.
Do you remember the last one Roy, with the naked girls being chased around the
deck screaming and laughing.”

“I remember and I was
ceremoniously confined to below decks Henry, not fit for proper people to be
looking at, eh Maud?”

 “Remember your high blood
pressure now,” and they both leaned over the table with laughter.

 Over another cup of tea Henry
told them the story in pure confidence that if they decided not to help him
they would be bound by their own British law to keep all they were told
confidential. They sat mesmerized at how they could become involved in such an
exciting saga and they threw their whole beings and yacht, which was all they
possessed, into helping Henry. Roy was discussing the case with Henry and
trying to analyze Tukola’s mind; whether he would take command of the launch
and divert to The Caymans instead of Key West as the late messenger had
shouted. Henry was almost certain he would take command of the launch one way
or another he; had a gun which he used to shoot the man who drove him to the
yacht club. He didn’t want to scare Roy and Maud but he had to inform them how
dangerous this man was. Roy listened attentively and added compliantly, “I
believe from what you’ve said, he’ll go to Georgetown on that launch. He could
be there with weather as good as it is, in twelve hours. If we sail at first
light say, seven hundred hours with a decent fair wind, it will take us twenty
hours.”

He brought Henry to the chart
and they measured the distance of the return course, but Roy had come from
Georgetown and knew the time it took them. He called out to Maud. “We’ll need
the assistance of a female first mate?”

 Roy was serious and calm as
he spoke. “Maud what would you say to sailing now, there’s a decent moon and
some buoys are lit. I’m sure I’d get us out safely.”

 She looked at Henry.

“You never did any navigation
but you could be a good look out.”

 “I’m sure I could.”

 She rubbed Roy’s shoulder.

 “We all agree then captain,
so let’s get started.”

 Roy beamed a smile but his
face still showed tension.

 “Aye- aye Mam, first mate
you single up to one mooring line and I’ll get her fired up.”

Henry went on the dock and
let go the lines except one. The navigation lights came on and the engine putt
putted into life. It was not the powerful hum of the big motor launch. Roy
stood stalwart at the wheel, “let go.”

 Henry threw the line and Maud
hauled it on board, he jumped on the after end and they were away. Roy lined
her up in the middle of the badly lit channel.

“Henry, will you go forward
and keep lookout and report anything you think might be a bank or shore line.”

 He sprang along the narrow
deck by the cabin and stood adjusting his eyes to the shadowy moonlight on the
calm water. He was watchful and motionless in the wild sarabande of dancing
shadows of the moored yachts. Slowly they sought the open water and after a
tense ten minutes, Roy shouted to Maud.

“Take her for a while and
I’ll check the course.”

He came up and sighted the
light of Havana harbor and altered course.

“Steer two six zero, should
take us handy along the coast.”

He tested the wind and called
Henry.

“We’ll try a bit of sail.”

 She heeled over to the light
wind and her speed through the water increased and the swish and lapping along
her sides of the warm Gulf of Mexico was like a plaintive music. Maud steadied
her with an experienced hand and Roy went and filled in the log and marked
their position on the chart. It was midnight. He reckoned they were doing seven
knots, not bad he thought; if they could keep this up, this time tonight they’d
reach Georgetown.

 The sun was rising over the
Cuban coast as they sighted the headland of Playa Las Tumbas, the south western
most tip of Cuba. Roy decided to go for some breakfast and let Henry take the
wheel as she was coasting nicely under a light wind. Henry thought this was
such an invigorating existence and envied Roy and Maud and their carefree,
happy life - something he’d never experienced and probably never would. He
gazed in awe at the wonderful splendor of the eastern light setting the stars
to flight and the huge orange orb slowly rising out of a golden purple haze to awaken
the world. The flying fish around them went flittering along the golden flecked
water like skimming silver coins, and disappeared in tiny splashes. Roy came on
deck and relieved Henry at the wheel. He could smell the frying bacon and he
thought he never felt so hungry in all his life. Maud was at the small stove,
she looked large in the confined space.

“Your breakfast is ready,” she
announced, as she ladled the food from the frying pan onto a plate, “and after
you’ve eaten you can get your head down for a bit if you feel tired. We’ll have
to take turns getting a bit of shut eye.”

Henry was pampered by Maud as
she fed him a generous portion of bacon, eggs and all the trimmings; followed
by toast and honey with hot tea - what more could a fellow ask? he thought.

“Roy and I will keep watch
until we round Playa Las Tumbas, and from there it’s a straight course and you
can take over for a bit.”