Deadly Deceit (22 page)

He knew from his map of Grand Turk that the Garage was located on the main road, about half a mile south of the Residence. Rather than walk down the road in plain view, he would try and access it from the beach that ran parallel.

Lifting the latch, he opened the door and went onto the landing. Quietly, he stepped over the creaky top stair, made his way down to the kitchen, and slipped out the back door. No-one heard him leave this time, he was sure of that.

Although light was beginning to break out to sea, it was still dark onshore. The narrow beam of his torch picked out the way as he turned left and headed south, keeping close to the bushes at the back of the beach. His feet sank deep into the sand with every step, which made it heavy going. He resisted the temptation to walk along the flattened sand by the water’s edge, where he’d be more visible.

He was surprised how isolated the Governor’s house was, with no neighbouring properties, and only scrub and beach for at least half a mile in each direction. When he came across a six-foot high wire fence, with low rise buildings set back, he guessed it was the Government Garage. Checking both ways along the beach, he tucked his iPad down the waistband of his cargo shorts, hauled himself up onto the top of the fence, and jumped down the other side, into tall grass. Staying low, he made his way towards the buildings. He could hear nothing but the sound of waves lapping onto the shore. No dawn chorus of birds, just the sea. Nothing but the sea.

Perspiration trickled down his back as he moved towards the buildings in the semi-darkness. That was due more to nerves than heat. He didn’t want to get caught trespassing, but his instincts were compelling him to take a look at that Land Rover.

As Jess described, three timber garages stood in a row in front of him. He switched off his torch in case the beam was visible from the road, and crept forward. His footsteps on soft gravel resonated in the silence. He stopped and listened. No-one. He could see each garage had two large doors, held together by bolts at the top and bottom, and a hasp and staple latch for a padlock in the middle. Only the far garage looked secured with a padlock. He walked around the garages looking for windows, but there were none.

Quietly, he threw back the bolts of the first garage, pulled the doors open and peered inside. A black limousine was up on the ramps. But it was not the Governor’s Land Rover. He shut the door, secured the bolts again, and moved to the middle garage. Inside that one, a white minivan was jacked up on one side, with the front wheel removed. Not that one either. He closed the door, and moved to the garage secured with a padlock. The Governor’s car had to be in here.

He rattled the padlock. Locked. Pulling his knife out of his pocket, he retracted the hook pick, and inserted it into the lock. It clicked open. Add breaking and entering to trespassing, he thought, as he slipped off the padlock. He opened one of the doors and flashed his torch inside.

But he was disappointed. It was empty. He went inside and shone the beam around. This garage was very tidy. Tools were neatly laid out on benches and shelves around the walls; and the floor was meticulously clean. Too clean, he thought, as he walked around with the torch inspecting it. Not only had the Land Rover gone, someone had swept the garage clean of any evidence it had ever been there.

Closing the garage door, he heard a car pull up outside the compound gates, on the main road. He clicked the padlock back in place, and slipped round the side of the garage to avoid being picked out by the car’s headlights. As soon as the driver switched off the engine and lights, he started running back to the fence.

Suddenly, a deep growl rang out in the silence.
Shit!
Over his shoulder, he saw a dark shape in pursuit, and heard the rapid patter of paws. He sprinted to the fence, and clambered onto the top. A black dog sprang at the fence, snapping at his legs and barking furiously.

Practically falling down the other side, he picked himself up and hurried back along the beach as fast as he could jog through the deep sand, until he reached the Residence. His heart was still pounding, and he was gasping. But now he was convinced Jess was right. The Governor’s car crash was no accident. The police wouldn’t have moved the Land Rover otherwise, and cleaned up the garage of any evidence it was ever there.

He had to find that vehicle. But how? He couldn’t exactly ask the police to show it to him. He would have to find someone else to help. Then he remembered the helicopter pilot’s words on their way back from Key West.
If you need any help, be sure to get in touch with Chuck Lynch.
Of course, Chuck was the US police contact on the island. They obviously trust him, Tom thought, but could he?

He jumped as he heard a noise. Someone was coming. He lay flat on the sand in the gloom and saw a woman slip around the side of the house, carrying a child. Then he heard voices.

“I told you not to come back,” a woman hissed.

He knew that voice… it was
Maggie!

“Take the child.” The other woman urged.

“I can’t.” Maggie sounded weary. “There are too many people in the house.”

“Do it!” The other woman snapped as if she were in charge. “What other choice do you have?”

Intrigued, Tom crawled behind a bush and peered round to see Maggie talking to a woman in a dark suit, with her hair tied in a bun. She was holding a little girl of about two or three, in a cotton dress. The child wasn’t making a sound.

The woman pushed the child into Maggie’s arms. “
Take her!
”

Suddenly, Maggie slapped the other woman hard across the face.

The woman gasped, and her hand flew to her cheek.

Tom held his breath, wondering what would happen next. But Maggie just grabbed the child.

The woman stared at her, then turned and stalked off.

Only then did the child start to whimper.

Maggie spoke softly to the little girl, as she bounced and cradled her in her arms. She shook her head as she watched the other woman walk away. Only when she was out of sight did Maggie turn and walk into the house.

Opening the heavy steel door, Jess stepped out of the communications room into the humid air in the corridor. She shivered. She’d been so absorbed in her work, she hadn’t noticed the air conditioning control was on such a low setting.

She checked her watch – 08.25.

It had taken over an hour to send a classified e-gram to London. She was relieved to have sent the photos of the Governor’s car and relayed her suspicions about the accident. She’d also told them about that unfinished confession letter to the Governor’s wife. She knew London would get into a flap when they read it. She was disappointed not to be able to give them any more details on Mrs Pearson’s murder. But she repeated her worry about the missing pets and reports of voodoo sacrifices. She wanted them to understand exactly what was going on, and the urgency of the situation. They needed to send UK police assistance.

Closing the door, she scrambled the combination lock. All she could do now was wait.

She rubbed her cold arms and headed down the corridor towards the kitchen. She was desperate for a cup of tea, having left the Residence before seven with no breakfast. Just as she was passing the Governor’s office, she heard a strange noise coming from inside. No-one should be in there, apart from Sally, and she wasn’t in yet.

She pushed open the door and peered inside. Overgrown shrubs outside the window swayed in the breeze, casting eerie shadows around the walls. She didn’t like this office. Not only was it gloomy, the heavy furniture made it feel oppressive. A twig scratched against the window pane in the wind, like chalk on a blackboard. That was the noise she’d heard.

As she stood looking around, she was more convinced than ever that the Governor and Clement Pearson’s row had kicked off this terrible chain of events. Was there something in here to shed light on what it was about? If Tom were here, he’d search the whole place from top to bottom. She closed the door, she’d do it herself later.

As she entered the kitchen, a cockroach scuttled across the floor, and disappeared under the unit. Cockroaches didn’t bother her. They were inevitable companions in hot climates. She yawned as she filled up the kettle. With only a few hours’ sleep after Sally and Brad’s antics on the beach, she was already tired.

She was cross with Sally. The girl was out of control. Drinking too much, constantly arguing with Rebekah, and having sex on a public beach. That would be enough to get her sent home from any overseas mission. But Jess hadn’t mentioned Sally in her e-gram to London, because she was a good PA. And Jess needed her help. She would give her a warning though. One more upset, and Sally would be on the first plane home. Jess would rather work alone than have a loose cannon on the team.

First though, she had to find out about that secret Sally and Brad shared.

She shoved a teabag into a mug, and poured in some boiling water. She liked tea made from leaves in a pot, but she was so parched, she’d drink anything.

Her ears pricked up as the front door slammed. The staff were arriving. She’d scheduled a hurricane planning meeting for the whole team at 08.30 to keep everyone focused on the job.

She took a carton from the fridge and poured some milk into her tea. Mug in hand, she walked out of the kitchen and straight into Sally.

“Morning, Jess.” Sally sounded cheerful. “You missed a great breakfast. I’ll have to stay at the Residence more often, and have Maggie wait on me.”

“Did you see Tom?” Jess asked, coldly.

“Nope. Guess he was spark out.” Sally looked at her sideways. “Must have had an exhausting night.”

Jess was about to give Sally a piece of her mind when the door opened again, and Alvita walked in.

“Morning,” Alvita mumbled.

“Morning,” Jess replied, in a business-like tone. “Can you please get all the staff into the Conference Room now. I want to start the hurricane planning meeting promptly in five minutes.” Without another word, she went straight into her office to get the papers for the meeting.

She would deal with Sally after that.

*

Hurricane planning checklist laid on the table, and pen in hand, Jess looked around. On her instructions, all the local staff had been invited to the meeting, including the gardeners who looked after the grounds. But she might just as well not have bothered because Alvita answered every question directed at them. And they were happy to let her.

“Have all the dead tree branches near the office and Residence been cut back?” Jess asked the head gardener, an old Haitian man. “We don’t want them flying around and causing damage.”

He looked down.

“Yes,” Alvita replied. “All the gutters have been cleared and secured too.”

Jess studied the old man while his eyes were averted. She couldn’t see any difference between his features and the locals. His hair was just as curly, and his skin as black. He was more wrinkled from working out in the sun all day, but who wouldn’t be?

“So where do we keep the hurricane shutters for the windows?” she asked.

Alvita piped up: “The boards for the office windows are in the store room round the back. The Residence ones are in the garage.”

Jess ticked that off her checklist. “What about battery operated radios? How many have we got?”

“Four,” Alvita said. “Two in the Residence, and two here.”

“Have we got a supply of spare batteries?”

“Yes,” Sally answered this time. “They arrived last week.”

Jess nodded. “Do the radios have the local emergency frequency stuck to them somewhere?”

Alvita frowned at her.

“I’m not a complete novice, Alvita,” Jess said. “I was working on the island of Mauritius, in the Indian Ocean, when a cyclone hit. The electricity and phones were cut immediately, and the only form of communication was battery operated radio, on an emergency frequency.”

Alvita looked down.

“What about drinking water containers?” Jess knew the water supply would be cut off too, or at least contaminated. “Where are they kept?”

“
I
wouldn’t drink out of the old ones we have in the store room,” Sally said.

“They’re fine,” Alvita replied.

It was only then that Jess noticed a red mark on Alvita’s cheek, or was it a scratch? “Let’s buy a few new ones, assuming the shops haven’t sold out by now.”

Alvita shook her head. “There’s really no need.”

“Just
do
it, please!”

Alvita nodded.

“Good… now, do we have candles, and battery operated lanterns?” Jess asked. “And a good supply of batteries?”

Sally nodded. “I got some spare batteries for the lanterns too.”

“Good. What about stocks of tinned and dried foods?” Jess looked around the table. “Have you all stocked up at home?”

The local staff averted their eyes, which Jess took to mean they hadn’t. Of course, they lived with the constant threat of hurricanes, and took the risk in their stride. Still, she’d raised the issue, it was up to them what they did in their own homes. She made a note to talk to Maggie about Residence stocks though.

She looked up. “Where’s the Disaster Management Centre on Grand Turk?”

“On the Ridge, near the lighthouse,” Alvita replied.

Jess frowned, she hadn’t seen it when she was up there with the Police Commissioner. “Let’s go up after lunch, Alvita. You can show me where it is. We’ll make sure everything’s in working order while we’re up there.”

Alvita looked surprised. “All right.”

“Good, well that’s everything on my list for now. Has anyone got anything else to say?”

The staff all looked away again.

“Good,” she said. “If there’s nothing else, we’ll draw the meeting to a close.”

Everyone leapt to their feet without another word, and filed out.

Sally was about to get up too.

“Not you, Sally,” Jess said. “I want to talk to you in the Governor’s office. It’s more private in there.”

“Okay,” Sally said. “I’ll get us some coffee first.”

“Forget the coffee.” Jess walked down the corridor, with Sally trailing behind her.