The Atlas Murders (44 page)

She scanned the photo Martha
had given him and enlarged and enhanced it.

 “Now what do you think?”

 “Great! that’s wonderful.”

He could make out the name of
the old building in the background,
‘
The Grenville Hotel.’ He examined newly
enhanced image; Alicia looked beautiful and Juan had a keen and eager face.

 She printed three copies for
him.

 “Will that be enough for you?”

 “Yes thank you, I’m indebted
to you for your help. However, there’s one more thing; can you do an internet
search for
The Grenville Hotel?”

She typed in the name and carefully
studied the search results on several leading search engines. “Sorry Henry, no
luck,” she announced solemnly. “It’s an old photograph so perhaps the hotel’s
changed its name at some point, or maybe it’s no longer in business.”

Perhaps you’re right, but
thank you for trying.”

 She placed copies of the
photographs into a large envelope and handed it to him.

“It’s been my pleasure and
anything more I can do for you please don’t hesitate to ask.”

 “Thank you again.”

 He strolled back towards the
boatyard and stood looking down on the yacht; the painting was coming along
nicely. The work day was ended and
Kerstin wasn’t anywhere to be seen. He
noticed the vessel’s name on the side had been sanded over but was still on the
mahogany name plate on her stern: “Amber Witch” he said it over again; it had a
soft poetic ring to it, just so serene and wonderful, he thought. Yes, she’ll
be mine. I need a good crew hand, someone I can trust and a good companion, who
must be experienced with navigation and chart work. Maybe Scott will know of someone
that would suit. There’s surely plenty of yachting people around the island.

He was anxious to know what
Scott Everard had to report, so he headed for his office. The door of the
shabby office was open. He was sitting at a cluttered desk, clicking away on
his computer.

 “Come in, will be with you
in a minute, and sit there.”

 Henry moved a sheaf of
papers from a rickety old chair and sat down he took in his surroundings:
cracked ceiling with strips of white paint curled and flaking, torn wallpaper
hanging on the walls, and a window with net curtains so dirty they were blocking
out the light.

“Sorry old boy, I was just
returning an email to the owners and confirming the purchase. I had a bit of
haggling but managed to get her for sixty-eight thousand. Believe me Henry,
she’s cheap at that and these superb, Alfred Mylne designed yachts are scarce.”

He stood up and shook Henry’s
hand.

“Congrats old boy, you’re now
a yacht owner,”

He took out a bottle of
Johnny Walker Black Label and taking two glasses out of a drawer he poured two
stiff drinks..

 “Here’s to safe and good
sailing,” he said, before knocking back the scotch in one go.

Henry couldn’t contain his
joy.

 “When will I actually own her?”

 “As soon as you send a bank
draft to the account number I have here. I will get a peace commissioner to
witness the signing over of her papers to you. It’s too late now but I’ll see
you in the bank at ten thirty in the morning. You can also draw out some cash
to pay my fees if that’s ok with you. I prefer to work in cash; you know how it
is, not wanting too many people knowing your business.”

Henry laid the glass back on
the cluttered desk. He could feel the warm glow in his stomach, his head was
feeling a little light. “How much are your fees?

“Normally, I charge five percent
but will we say two grand. Is that fine with you?”

 “That’s alright with me.
Now, what about hiring a good crew member?”

 “You have the best crew hand
in the business; all you have to do is ask her, she’ll be expecting it anyway.
I mean the beautiful Kerstin. She knows that boat inside out. I’ll go with you
if you’re too shy and sign her on.”

 “That would be great, but if
she decided to sign up, what wage should I pay her?”

 “You can work that one out
between yourselves.”

 The business in the bank was
concluded and the boat was now Henry’s.

Back at the boatyard they met
Kerstin as she was just finishing the painting.

“I’m just knocking off for a
coffee break, follow me on board. Coffee for both?”

“Yes please came the
unanimous response.”

 “How did the purchase go? Has
the Witch got a new owner?”

 “Yes,” chirruped Scott
Everard, “you can
congratulate Henry. He just signed up an hour ago.”

“She leant across the table
and kissed Henry on the cheek. “Congratulations and happy sailing.”

 “Thanks Kerstin, I
appreciate your good wish very much.”

 “I’ll have her ready to go
back in the water tomorrow afternoon, if that’s ok with my new owner.”

 Henry thought for a minute
before he realized she was alluding to him.

“Yes, that’s quite all right
with me. I’ll be here to help you if you say the time.”

 “You need not be around the
boatyard; I will organize her lift back into the water.”

 Scott Everard gulped his
coffee as if he needed it badly. Henry thought he might have been celebrating
the sale with the remainder of the Johnny Walker.

“Kerstin, Henry is looking to
crew the Witch. But I’ll let him ask you himself, although I think he’s a
little awkward with girls he doesn’t know.”

 Henry placed his coffee mug
on the table and looked straight at Kerstin.

 “Would you like to stay on
and sail with me? I don’t know for how long but we’ll be going to most of the
islands.”

 “Of course, I’d love to.
I’ve become attached to the Witch and I know all her whims and little quirks
which are few and easy to handle.”

 “Great! that settles that,”
and, he added a little reluctantly, “they’ll be only the two of us if that’s
all right with you?”

 “I wouldn’t have expected
anymore; two can crew this boat in their sleep and we’ll only be island hopping
which is a breeze in itself.”

Kerstin stood up.

 “Ok, that’s sorted, now I
must get back to finishing the hull so we can drop her in the water tomorrow.”

 “Looks like you’re on your
way old boy and I hope you manage to successfully conclude your unfinished business
with that murderer.”

 “Thank you Scott. I hope to
be back again when this is all over, but how did you know?

“Monty told me. However, by
now practically the whole island knows why you came back.”

Henry’s happy expression
suddenly changed.

 “I haven’t told Kerstin
about any of this. Do you think it only proper I tell her before we sail?”

“Listen to me, Kerstin is a
big girl and has been around the block a few times. I don’t mean that in any
kind of derogatory way but if anyone can understand these things, it’s her.
You’ll have plenty of quite days at sea when you can share stories about your
lives. The only thing is, I’d like to be a fly on the bulkhead listening.”

 Henry regained his jovial
composure again and smiled. “Could be interesting listening.”

 He arrived at the boatyard
next day after three o’clock as the lift was taking the Witch up and lowering
her into the dock. Looking at her floating she was even more beautiful - his
own very yacht. She was as sleek as a gazelle, her name now proud yellow on
mahogany board.

“Ahoy!” Kerstin shouted as she
waved him to come on board.

 “She’s much more elegant in
the water. I’m proud to be her owner.”

 “Yes,” she interrupted him,
“and I her skipper.”

“Now then Henry, everything
is ready, just choose your bunk. I must make up a list of stores; we can adjust
these to length of voyage. So where to from here?”

“I wanted to make Jamaica
first stop if that’s ok with you?”

“Wherever you want to go is
fine with me. I’ll sail to any port in the world on this one. So what port in
Jamaica should we go to?”

They went to the chart and
after a little consultation they decided on Montego Bay.

“Right, we’ll be ready to
sail first light the day after tomorrow.”

 Henry was judging the
distance to Montego Bay - it didn’t look very far.

“I’m sorry Kerstin but I
won’t be much help for a bit until you show me the ropes and will you also
teach me some navigation?”

 “After a couple of weeks of
training you’ll be fit to sit your yachtsman’s exam.

“Is that so?”

 Yes Henry, you’ll be fine.  By
the way, you would be well advised to bring any cash with you in U.S. dollars;
they’re acceptable all over the Caribbean. And I’ll need some cash tomorrow for
stores and diesel, also to pay the harbor dues for the couple of nights stay
here at the pier. The last owners will pay for all expenses up to the day you
purchased the wonderful Amber Witch.”

Chapter
Thirty-Five

His new skipper produced a
writing pad listing everything she had to do before the yacht would be ready to
sail and handed it to Henry.

“Kerstin you’re a marvel, I
never thought there was so much involved. I’ll go and get my belongings and
take up lodging’s as from tonight.”

 She smiled a captivating
beautiful smile.

 “Great Henry. I’ll see you
later. I must get on with this list and by the way, is there any food
preferences before I order?”

 He scratched his head. No,
not really, I’m very easy to please as far as food is concerned. I’m sure
you’ll know best so I’ll leave it in your capable hands.”

Heading back into town, he
did some last minute shopping and he drew out some U.S. dollars. Back at his
hotel as he was packing his few belongings, he picked up the old atlas. It was
the very same atlas he had studied before joining the Rangoon. As he leafed
through the yellowing pages, he saw the markings and notes he had made at the
time and had added to when he got back to Britain. It was his own personal
record of the murders. He had purposefully brought it along to remind himself
that even after all these years he had to bring the killer to account.

Arriving back at the yacht, he
saw Kerstin’s gear on a bunk in the outside cabin so he moved into the larger
interior space. He packed away his clothes and locked his valuables into the
small safe, the key of which was in the lock. Good grief, she thinks of
everything. She must be ashore getting stores, he thought, so he lay himself
down and fell into a deep sleep.

The sun was streaming through
the small port windows when he awoke. He thought he was dreaming when he smelt
fried bacon.

The door opened and a beautiful
face beamed at him.

“Breakfast up, as soon as
you’re ready.”

 My goodness, I must have
slept right through. It’s morning.

Kerstin served up a breakfast
fit for a prince.

“You slept like a baby. I
didn’t want to wake you earlier. Its seven thirty and I must be off to organize
the final lot of provisions. I’ll be back before lunch.”

 “Ok, and thanks for such a
lovely breakfast.”

After he had finished his
second cup of coffee, he walked on deck and noticed a small ladder amidships on
the outward side, so he decided to go for a swim. The water was warm and he
swam round practicing a few strokes he thought were beyond him, he was so
pleased how easy it was to get back to; he hadn’t swam much in twenty years. He
climbed out and felt invigorated. My, he thought, this was such a good life, but
I mustn’t forget why I’m here. Whether I’m successful or not, I’ll never leave
this beautiful part of the world.

 Back in the cabin, he
wondered if he should talk to Monty before they sailed. He might be able to
give him some advice about how to search for Tukola. And what type of tactics
he could use. Henry wondered if the killer was still using his own name, and
whether he was dead or alive; maybe he was living in some other remote part of
the world. He held his head in his hands in despair. Is this a crazy fool’s
errand? It must be a million to one that I will find him even if he is in the
Caribbean. As his despair deepened he could see the black birds circling
overhead. He saw Shirley, Nilima and Pippa; they were weeping, their tears
gathered together and formed a small stream that flowed like a waterfall but
never reached the ground. He felt the wet soft tears on his face and he swore
he’d go on: ‘I promise you I’ll find him,’ he repeated to himself several times.
Then he thought, I’ll have to tell Kerstin why I’m here. She may want to leave
and not sail with an obsessed old man chasing revenge.

He had showered and shaved before
she returned in a small vehicle which she promptly started unloading.

 “Henry, she shouted as she
handed up the boxes, “put those ones straight into the freezer and those in the
fridge.”

 “Aye-aye skipper.”

He decided to break the story
to her after lunch and take the consequences if she decided to leave.

 As she stood up to take the
plates off the table, Henry reached over and took hold of her hand.

“Kerstin could you sit a
minute, I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”

 Sensing something was
bothering him, her demeanor took on a more serious air, as she placed her hands
together and lent them on the table sitting opposite Henry.

“I have to tell you why I
bought this yacht and why I’m sailing to the islands. I’m sure you’ve wondered
why a man of my age would do something like this. I suppose you could you call
it a wild adventure.”

 She smiled; I’ve met lots of
men and also women who decide later in life to do just what you’re doing - it’s
not strange at all. But if you’re referring to your quest for the man who you
captured forty years ago, the man who murdered all those girls, including your
own niece and who you are hoping to track down again…”

 “My God! he interrupted, you
know?”

 “Yes, I do! So does everyone
in Georgetown! It’s on the lips of the all the locals and they wish you
success. I’m proud to be the one sailing with you and if I can be of assistance
in any way other than sailing, I’ll be more than willing to help. If it’s
possible, together we’ll catch the filthy scum and bring him to justice.”

 “My goodness Kerstin. So you
know all about it? I’d never have guessed so many people knew.”

 “It’s not such a lonely
world, when someone wants to do good, they have lots of friends; everyone loves
a hero.”

 “I’m not a hero nor have I
ever been. I was just doing my job.”

 She leaned over and held his
hand.

“To the people here who know
what you are trying to do, you
are
their hero.”

 “Thanks you Kerstin.”

He stood up and walked out on
deck.

 ‘But heroes are only for
Hollywood,’ he mused.

 The sun rising in the eastern
sky brought light to the softly rippling surface of the sea. The diesel engine
made a regular hum as Kerstin stood at the wheel. Henry jumped on board having
thrown the last mooring rope onto the deck.

 “All clear,” he shouted.

Henry watched as they slowly
moved from the berth and slipped out into the calm morning sea. Further out a
fresh offshore breeze pushed them on towards the brightening sky. He looked at
Kerstin silhouetted in the infant light; the soft wind wafting her silky hair
around her bare neck and shoulders. They were soon alone on the vast sea as the
island sank beneath the horizon. The heat of the sun awoke the seabirds and
flying fish flew, splashing as though some giant had flung silver dollars
across the sparkling expanse of turquoise water. Kerstin set her course and
left the wheel to hoist the sails with Henry. The white canvas billowed full
and heeled the vessel to starboard. She was now racing like an ocean athlete
enjoying her newly found freedom.

“Knock off the engine and
we’ll get a bit of breakfast. It’s so wonderful to be back at sea, there is no
other feeling in the world like it.” Kerstin was so invigorated and refreshed
as she balanced against the sloping deck. She looked up at the sails and happy at
what she saw went below to prepare breakfast.

 They made six knots all day
with the lively breeze on their quarter. Kerstin marked in their position; at
twenty hundred hours and at five knots they would be in Montego Bay by six
hundred hour the next morning.

“We’ll slacken her a bit,
although the wind might fall off during the night. And seven hundred hours
would be a better time to arrive - we’d have the daylight by then.”

 Henry watched her at the
chart working the dividers, calculating their expected time of arrival and
hoped someday he’d be as accomplished himself.

“Fine to arrive at day break.
I’ll take the watch now if you’d like to get a bit of shut eye.”

 “Ok Henry, I’ll just check
on the weather on the radio, there’s a forecast due now. You call me in four
hours at midnight or before if you need me.”

 Henry stood at the wheel
gazing out across the dark moonless sea. A light away off to port was probably
a merchant ship; she would pass miles off, heading out into the Atlantic. He marveled
at the serene beauty and solitude, alone with the vibrant water splashing along
the hull, the sky filled with a multitude of sparkling stars. The time moved on
and he could observe the heavenly bodies as they swung around Polaris; small
and insignificant but the navigator’s friend.

 He felt like staying on for
a little longer so didn’t call Kerstin until one o’clock. She came on deck and
scolded him for allowing her to have an extra hour in her bunk.

 “Henry; watches have to be
kept strictly to time, but it’s very considerate of you to let me lie in.
However, it shouldn’t happen again! That’s your first telling off, now, goodnight
and I’ll call you at four.”

“Sorry about that, but it’s
been one of the happiest days of my life.”

He was called for watch at the
agreed time. Still feeling drowsy, he could have slept a bit longer. Kerstin
showed him their position on the chart and pointed out the lights of Montego.

“I’ll get a bit of shut eye.
Please call me at six hundred hours.”

 “Will do, Montego looks
beautiful from here, it’s like a fairyland.”

 “It’s a popular tourist spot,
beautiful beaches and scrumptious cafés. Breakfast will be my treat,” she
announced as she disappeared below to her bunk.

They finally dropped the
anchor off the Montego yacht club a little after eight, and after a swim and
shower they were ready for shore. They lowered the little dinghy and rowed to
the harbor wall. Kerstin knew the area well and took Henry to one of her favorite
cafés. It was busy with the yachting fraternity having breakfast ashore. The
food was delicious and cheap. Henry sipped the black coffee relishing the
unique flavor.

 “I thought that Cuban coffee
was special but this is really what you’d no doubt call scrumptious!”

Kerstin laughed.

“I must look up the meaning
of that word in the dictionary; it could mean a lot more than I give it credit
for. Would you say that a girl could be described as scrumptious?”

 Henry rubbed his chin; he
had a little frown of contemplation on his brow.

“I could imagine some girls
being termed that,” he wrinkled his nose a little, “but she would have to be
very special in lots of ways.”

 Kerstin leaned across the
table. “What kind of special, and in what way.”

 He looked into her eyes and
detected the mischievous glint.

“She would have to have
beautiful eyes, maybe as blue as an arctic sky, be warm, kind, with a spirited
soul. Long curled lashes and a pretty straight aquiline nose, full ruby red
lips and pearly white teeth. Her high cheeks firm and honey tinted, a long
graceful neck sloping to soft sculpted shoulders and topped off with a mane of
blonde shimmering hair.”

 “Kerstin threw her head back
and laughed coyly; then sat forward and sipped the last of her coffee, all the
time keeping Henry in a stoat stare.

 “You are a real smoothie; inferring
that I’m scrumptious, indeed. But I guess you deserve some kind reward for
making me feel special.”

I’ll see what I can come up
with when we are back on board.”

 “Can’t wait,” he grinned.

 They left the cool interior
of the café and sat on a bench overlooking the sea.

Henry spoke first.

 “Kerstin do you think we
should go to the police station first or just go to a post office and look
through the telephone directory. If that turns up nothing we could get the
names of all the registered companies in Jamaica and see is he listed on any of
them?”

 She stood up.

“Come on, the nearest post
office is not far.”

 It didn’t take long to go
through the Ts. in the directory, and there was no name even resembling Tukola.
They inquired at the post office and were directed to a city council office
that could supply them with all the registered companies in Jamaica.

 “Right my charmer, this is
it.”

She took his hand and led him
up the steps into the interior of a beautiful colonial building. The
receptionist sent them into a young lady relaxing in a room with high ornate
ceiling and great big Georgian windows readily coaxing the bright sunlight
through. She was young, light coffee-color with Euro Afro features; a beauty in
all senses. They explained their quest and she promptly searched her computer
and all the information was at their fingertips. Alas, there was no name to
match, so they thanked the young girl and left.

“Where now Henry, do you
think we should try the police?”

 Henry had an envelope with a
photo of the computer aged Tukola; he held it up and shook it. “Come on, we
have nothing to lose, it’s our last shot.”