Hurricane (26 page)

“
Mom, look!” Meiko said, and Julie turned to see their fishermen friends’ pirogue motor toward the southern part of Testigo Grande. All three of the old men were in the boat, and they were all waving. Then they stood and one of them dropped the small anchor. They waved again, then all three jumped into the water and swam toward shore.

“
What are they doing?” Meiko asked.

“
The diversion,” Julie said.

“
But all three of them, and they’re so old.”

“
They wanted to say goodbye again.”

The women watched as Sanchez motored the Guardacoasta cutter into place. It would be the first thing the crews of Challenge and Snake Eyes saw when they came around the islands. There were two young sailors at the guns. Sanchez was on the bridge, mike in hand. “Shut off your engines,” he said, and Meiko obeyed. “Ten minutes, maybe less,” he said.

They heard the stereo rumble of diesel engines, the cutter’s in front and another coming from behind. The one from behind was getting closer. Julie moved back behind the wheel with her daughter. Meiko took her hand, clutching tightly.

“
Mom,” Meiko whispered, “they’re here. Look,” And they saw the bow of the black schooner, less then fifty feet away. The sound of its diesel rumbled through Julie and she fought an impulse to duck.

Then a new sound tore up the morning as the cutter’s guns opened up on the pirogue. The black schooner was around the bend. Kurt, or his brother, Julie couldn’t tell which, was behind the wheel. Three crew. They were all looking forward, straining to see what was behind the gunfire. Then the pirogue blew with a sound louder than any thunder Julie had ever heard and the fishermen’s little pirogue vanished, turning into flying bits of wood and splinters.

Dynamite, Julie thought. Sanchez had filled the little boat with dynamite, and like the crew on the black schooner, she had her eyes clued forward as the smoke was clearing and pieces of wood, large and small, rained down on the water.

“
Now,” Sanchez said over the radio, and Meiko started the engines and motored out behind the schooner. Julie read the name Snake Eyes on the stern. If any of the men turned around, they would be caught. Fallen Angel’s engines sounded so loud to Julie, she was surprised the men on Snake Eyes couldn’t hear, but the guns on the cutter were still blazing away at the place where the pirogue had been as Meiko turned the wheel toward the right. A couple of minutes later they were around the bend and behind Testigo Grande.

Julie went forward, dropped the anchor in seventy feet of water. They had a long wait till dark.

“
Think we’ll be okay?” Meiko asked.

“
I do.” Julie said, “We should try and get some sleep. It’s going to be a long night.”

Five hours later as the sun was going down Sanchez motored the cutter around. Julie and Meiko were both on deck. “They stood and waved. They just left my radar,” he called over and the cutter stood by as Julie brought up the anchor.

“
Sail safely.” Sanchez waved and Julie blew him a kiss.

The next morning, two hours after sunrise, they set anchor off Hog Island in Grenada. Both women had been up all night and were exhausted. Twenty minutes after the anchor was down they were fast asleep. Julie woke at sundown and finally saw her green flash. Then she went back to sleep, never knowing that Challenge and Snake Eyes passed ahead during the night. This time they had anticipated her move and they would be waiting for her up island.

Chapter Fourteen

The Tropical Depression hung east of the Bermuda High, in the mid Atlantic, for a full week, gorging itself on smaller storms, forcing them below and above it, turning itself into a multilayered, slow moving monster that turned the sky dark above the cruise ship Norwegian Venture.

Her captain, a veteran of many storms, radioed his position to the Coast Guard as lightning lasered into the surging sea around his ship. But he was spared a strike as he plowed through the waves, thankful that he encountered the storm before it was fully formed.

Broxton and T-Bone were sitting in Typhoon Willie’s, sipping Red Stripe Jamaican beer, about an hour before sunset, when T-Bone smiled and said. “I’ve got a present for you.”

Broxton turned away from the bay. He’d been watching the boats come and go for the last three days. “Another beer?” he asked.

“
This.” T-Bone slapped a blue passport on the table between them. “Now you’re Daniel Arthur Steele. Danny Steele. Hey I like that, Danny Boy. Got a nice ring to it.”

Broxton picked up the passport and opened it, and looked at the picture of himself staring back. He smiled and looked up at T-Bone.

“
It’s even got a five-year multiple entry visa for the States,” T-Bone said. “You couldn’t ask for better, except US maybe, but a Trinidad passport with a US visa is pretty fucking golden.” He was grinning like he knew Broxton was buying the next round.

“
How?”

“
Well, Danny Boy, you didn’t look in the dead men’s pockets. I did. The two Colombians had Trini passports. Lucky for you they’re not as tamper proof as ours. I borrowed your funky looking photos, and, voila, now you’re Danny Steele.”

“
You think they were Colombian? I thought they were Cuban,” Broxton said, thumbing through the pages.

“
Colombian.”

“
You can’t even tell. T-Bone you’re an artist.” Broxton slipped the passport into his shirt pocket.

“
You can thank me, Danny boy, by picking up the next round.”

“
I have the feeling I’ll be paying all night.”

“
Fair exchange, Danny Boy, fair exchange.”

“
I didn’t like Billy Boy, I hate Danny Boy.”

“
Sorry, you’re stuck with it. Be good to me or I might start singing.”

Broxton raised his hand to get the waitress’s attention.

“
No singing?” T-Bone said.

“
Please, no,” Broxton said.

“
They’re here,” T-Bone said.

Broxton turned to look and saw the two black schooners weaving their way through the bay, looking for a place to drop anchor.

“
Is there going to be more killing?” T-Bone asked.

“
One, for sure,” Broxton said.

“
That I understand, but the others?”

“
I don’t know.”

“
You ever killed anyone before, Danny Boy?” T-Bone asked. With the lone exception of the dead man’s passport, neither man had brought up the killing of the men on the speed boat and why it appeared to come so easy to both of them.

“
Once. In self defense,” Broxton said. “Not long ago. You?”

“
I spent four years in Vietnam.”

“
You don’t look that old.”

“
Fifty-five.” He raised his wrist and looked at it. In about six and a half hours.”

“
Tomorrow’s your birthday?”

“
Yeah, tomorrow.”

“
I’ll have to get you something,” Broxton said.

“
You already paid for half of the new dinghy. Don’t think I don’t appreciate it. I know it took most of your money.”

“
You spent four years in Vietnam? Why so long?

“
They taught me good. Point and shoot, send the kid, he never misses. I was a grunt for the first thirteen months and the brass saw something in me they liked. They spoon fed me America the Beautiful, and better dead then red, and I bought the whole lot. For the next three years I was their good little shooter. After the war they had a job for me at Langley.”

“
CIA?”

“
Central Fuckin’ Intelligence, yeah, and for ten years they sent me places and had me doing things that nobody should ever have to do. Somewhere around year five I started to wonder about what I was doing. I started drinking a little at year six and by year ten I was a bloody drunk and no good to them or myself anymore.

“
They cut me loose with a hundred grand golden handshake, and it took me about two years to drink it up. Then Dad died. He was seventy-nine. He had a good estate, but he left all the money split equally among my seven brothers.”

“
Seven?”

“
Eight sons, five wives, four countries. I told you, Daddy was a sailor man. He didn’t leave me a dime, cause he knew I’d drink it away and maybe kill myself. But he left me something better than money. He left me his boat, and here I am, God bless him. He stepped out from the grave and he saved me. Now I only drink when I want to. I never get drunk. And I only kill people I don’t like.”

“
So I was never really in charge the other day?” Broxton said.

“
Sure you were, Danny Boy, cause your plan made sense. Shit, I probably would have shot them all before they boarded the boat, but then you wouldn’t have learned anything about your German with the girlie voice.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the waitress and Broxton ordered two more Red Stripes as they watched the crew from the two black schooners climb into their dinghies.

“
How do you want to play it?” T-Bone asked, after the waitress had left.

“
I’ve seen Kurt, the twin with the man’s voice, a couple of times around the boatyards in Trinidad. I’d recognize him if I saw him again, but I don’t think he’d know me with the hair.” Broxton grinned and ran his hand through it. “I think I’d just like to hang out awhile, drink beer and see what we can pick up.”

“
And the one that sounds like a girl?”

“
He’ll die before your birthday.”

“
Need help?”

“
Maybe later, with the others, but not with this. It’s kind of an honor thing.”

“
I understand,” T-Bone said as the waitress brought the drinks.

The two men sat and sipped beer and watched the Germans pull their dinghies ashore. They were still sipping as they came in, boisterous and laughing. Kurt asked for a seaside table, louder than he had to, and was more upset than he had to be when told they were all taken. They waitress said she could put two tables together for the eight men, but it would be toward the back. Kurt didn’t stop complaining until the tables were joined and she was taking the drink orders.

“
Another round?” Broxton said.

“
You still buying?” T-Bone said.

“
You know I am.”

“
Then I’m still drinking.”

Broxton got up and went to the bar. He wanted to get a look at the man he’d promised to kill. He studied him through the mirror behind the bar, both twins caught him looking and met his eyes through the mirror. Broxton looked away, ordered the two beers and took them back to the table.

They were still nursing the beers fifteen minutes later when a bass voice sang out, “Hey, T-Bone Powers.” A large black man slapped T-Bone on the back, then he eased himself into a chair opposite Broxton. Broxton thought he saw a grimace as the man sat down.

“
Henry Waller.” T-Bone smiled, standing as the big man sat. T-Bone sat back down and the two man shook hands.

My daughter, Darla,” Henry said and a young girl pulled out the chair next to Broxton and sat down.

The party of four at the next table got up and left. Kurt and Karl Schneidler and two of the other Germans took the seats before the evening breeze had a chance to cool them off.

Darla pulled on Broxton’s sleeve, “I got a secret,” she said, crooking her finger. He bent his head low, so that she could whisper in his ear. “Show me your dinghy,” Darla whispered. “Right now, show me now.”

Broxton looked up at her father. Henry nodded.

“
He’s gonna take me for a ride in the rubber boat,” Darla said. “So we can see the sunset from the water, and maybe see the green flash.” She sounded excited and took Broxton’s hand as he rose from the table.

“
I haven’t ever ridden in one of those before,” she said, loud enough for the Germans at the next table to hear. She kicked up sand and was bouncing around as Broxton pulled the dinghy into the water. She jumped in at the last second and Broxton got his feet wet as he pushed it out.

He reached for the cord, but she said, “We can row, we don’t have to go very far.” She had the right oar in the lock before he’d finished with the left. She’d definitely ridden in a dinghy before. He sat in the center, facing her, she sat on the front tube and seemed to be enjoying herself as he rowed out toward the boats at anchor.

“
Okay,” he said after a few minutes, “they can’t hear us. That’s why we’re out here, isn’t it?”

“
They saw the name on your boat when they came in,” she said. She had his full attention. “The two twins, the one with the normal voice and the scar on his face, he recognized you. It took him a few minutes, cause he said you have hair now. Did you used to be bald?”

He ran his hand through his hair. “I used to shave it,” he said, thinking about what she’d said, working it over, trying to see how it changed things.

“
They’re bad men,” she said. “I’ve met some of them before, but they didn’t recognize me. I sure recognize them though. You didn’t ask me how come I know what they said?”

“
You speak German,” he said, still thinking.

“
You’re smarter than you look. Definitely smarter than them. They don’t think anyone like me can understand a word they say. What are you going to do about them?”