Hurricane (5 page)

“
Thanks.” He started for the door.

“
But he didn’t say who it was. He just said, ‘Tell Broxton to call me at home.’”

“
That’s all right,” Broxton said. Then he was out the door and back into the bright Caribbean day. He knew who the caller was. There was a reason he received certain faxes and phone calls at the yacht club and not at the embassy.

He stopped at the wall phone outside the office, inserted a phone card and dialed direct. Four rings and he hung up and redialed. This time his call was answered at the first ring. “Is it you?” a quiet male voice asked.

“
It is.”

“
The long knives are out.”

“
Do they want me whole?”

“
No. They aim to slice.” Whole meant alive and sliced meant dead.

“
Why?”

“
They found about a half million dollars in your secret bank account.”

“
What secret account?”

“
The one at B of A in San Diego.”

“
Christ, some secret.” He’d been depositing three hundred dollars a month in that account for the last five years. It was automatic. It came out of his check.

“
I guess they figure you’re stupid.”

“
I guess,” Broxton answered.

“
Any idea how it got there?”

“
No.”

“
You must be getting close for them to invest that kind of money.”

“
But close to what? And to who?”

“
For you to find out, my friend, and fast.”

“
Do I get to plead my case?”

“
No,” the voice said, but Broxton knew the answer before he asked the question. He’d been branded a turn coat. The only thing worse than a drug lord was a DEA agent that worked for one. They’d shoot first, both his own people and whoever put the half million in his account.

“
How bad is it?”

“
Your account has been closed, your cards are canceled, your passport number and details are in every airport in South America and the Caribbean. And of course US Customs will arrest you on sight.”

“
Great,” he said, but he’d expected it.

“
You gonna be okay?” the voice asked.

“
Yeah.”

“
Good luck.”

“
Thanks,” Broxton said, and hung up. He looked over his shoulder, more out of reflex than worry, and he saw the man crouched under a trailered speedboat. He jumped aside as the man fired the silenced pistol. Broxton felt the speed of the bullet as it tore a neat hole into his Hawaiian shirt and sliced along his side, but he didn’t hear the thud it made when it pounded into the brick building behind him, because he was too busy rolling and grabbing for his own gun.

A pair of trash bins stopped his roll and he scooted behind them, holding the gun in his right hand, hoping to get a shot at his assailant before he fired again. He realized he was too late when he heard the sound of a dinghy roaring away from the club. He jumped to his feet and ran to the water.

They were too far away for him to get a good look, but maybe not far enough for him to catch them. They had nowhere to go but the Yachting Association or the Five Islands.

He charged down the dock, leapt over a diesel jug and shoved aside two workmen carrying teak to a boat on the right. He slipped at the sea wall, but caught himself before he went down, and he ran on toward her boat.

“
Hey Fallen Angel,” he yelled.

She must have recognized the urgency in his voice, because she popped out of the hatch right away.

“
Need your dinghy,” he said, panting.

She saw the blood on his shirt, the gun in his hand and the dinghy fleeing in the distance. “I’m going too.”

“
No.”

“
I can’t let you take off alone. You’re hurt.” She turned and shouted down to Meiko below, “Be right back.” Then to him she said, “Come.” She grabbed onto a spinnaker halyard, lowered herself into the dinghy and pulled the starter cord.

He dropped into the rubber boat after her. She was turning the dinghy before he was even in it and in seconds they were away from Fallen Angel, heading out into the gulf. She had the throttle half open as they swung past the breakwater and a breaking wave covered them both with spray.

She straightened out the boat, opened the throttle wide and the dinghy jumped up onto a plane. Broxton held on.

“
We’re gaining,” she yelled to be heard above the engine noise. And Broxton marveled at how quickly she grasped the situation. No questions, just action.

“
We’ll never catch them,” he yelled back.

“
We will. Yachting is over two miles away. We’ll be on them way before they get there.” And to Broxton’s amazement they were closing. She was right, they were going to catch them. She had a faster boat.

There were two of them in the dinghy ahead, the one at the engine was keeping himself low, and the one in front was keeping an eye on their pursuers and urging his companion to speed up.

Then without warning the dinghy ahead spun around and was coming at them head on. The hunted intended on becoming the hunter, but Broxton was having none of it. He held onto the dinghy painter and stood, offering them a perfect target. The rider with the gun took aim, but Broxton fired first and the man flew out of the dinghy in front. Broxton didn’t see him hit the water, because a loud whoosh of escaping air whistled below him and he went over the side, too.

He lost the gun and the sun glasses when he hit the water and shock waves of pain radiated from his side. He struggled to the surface, treading water, and saw the dinghy ahead screaming away from them, headed for the Yachting Association.

Julie maneuvered the dinghy over to him and cut the engine.

“
Are you okay?” she asked.

“
Yeah.” He tried to pull himself up into the dinghy, but the weight of his wet clothes was against him and he fell back into the water. The second time he tried she reached out and grabbed him by the back of his shirt and jerked him into the boat.

“
Thanks,” he said.

“
Just trying to help.”

He pulled himself up next to her. “Flat,” he said.

“
Yup, flat,” she answered. They were sitting on the left pontoon, the right pontoon was flat, causing them to lean to starboard.

“
I don’t get it.”

“
Three independent tubes, front and two sides. In case someone shoots at you, you don’t sink.”

“
He’s getting away.” They both had their eyes on the escaping man, and they watched, until he passed several boats at anchor at the Yachting Association and moved out of sight.

“
But he didn’t,” she said, indicating the floating body with a turn of her head.

“
No, he didn’t.”

“
What’d he do?”

“
He tried to kill me. I don’t know why.”

“
Well, he won’t try again.”

“
No, I guess he won’t,” he said. Then he asked, “Can you get us back?”

“
I think so,” she said. She pulled the starter cord and after a few seconds of moving the dinghy back and forth with a gentle throttle she said, “Yeah, I can get us back, but it will take forever against this current, better if we go on to Yachting.”

“
You’re the captain.” He looked at the body as it floated away.

“
I’ve got some problems hanging over me,” she said. “I have to leave Trinidad this afternoon. If we bring that back, I’ll never get out of here.”

“
I don’t need a body in my life right now either,” he said. “Let’s go.”

“
He’s fish food now.” Julie pointed the wounded boat toward the Yachting Association and increased the gas slightly.

He nodded, and winced. The salt water was stinging his wound.

“
Thanks for helping me,” he said.

“
You know, the day before yesterday I’d have been horrified, but my husband’s death has overwhelmed me. I’m sort of running on autopilot.”

He looked at her as she attempted a smile and his heart went out to her. She’d known about her husband’s death for less than a day and here she was, driving the dinghy to beat hell, trying to catch someone that tried to kill a man she hardly knew.

“
I’m sorry about your husband,” he said.

“
It’s not your fault.” The sadness in her voice almost brought tears to his eyes.

“
Maybe it was.” He hated himself for saying it, but couldn’t hide anything from this woman.

“
What do you mean?”

“
Stardust was carrying drugs. I knew it, but I couldn’t prove it.”

“
Why didn’t you stop it?”

“
Trinidad’s not America. Besides, I boarded her one night and searched, and I didn’t find anything, but they were there. I could feel it.”

“
You should have told the coast guard.” She brushed the hair out of her eyes, but she kept her cold gaze on him.

“
I didn’t find anything, so how was I going to call the coast guard? What could I have said?”

“
Then it wasn’t your fault,” she said, and her eyes softened. “It was just bad luck.”

He heaved a sigh of relief, deeply glad that she didn’t blame him.

“
Why are you leaving Trinidad today? It seems kind of soon.” he asked after a few minutes silence.

And she told him.

“
That policeman is taking a hell of a chance, he must be a good man.”

“
He is,” she said.

The sea turned a little choppy and they were taking some spray over the side, but she couldn’t add power, so they sat quietly and slogged toward the Yachting Association.

“
The dead man,” she said, breaking the silence as they approached the small bay, “do you do that kind of thing often?”

“
First time.”

“
Serious?” she said.

“
Serious,” he answered.

“
Were you scared?”

“
I’ve been trained. I always knew I might have to shoot someone someday.”

“
You didn’t answer my question, Broxton. We’re you scared?”

“
I was afraid you might get hurt,” he said.

“
Really?”

“
Yes, and it bothered me.”

“
Why?”

“
Because I’ve always been a number one kind of guy.”

“
Are you married, Broxton?”

“
I was.”

“
What happened?”

“
We got a divorce.”

“
Why?”

“
I’d rather not talk about it,” he said.

“
Why?” she repeated.

“
She was having an affair.”

“
I’m sorry.”

“
The man was her boss. They’d been having an affair for over a year and I didn’t know, not till his wife told me at their annual Christmas party.”

“
Did you love her?”

“
That’s the hardest part. I didn’t, I never did and I don’t think she ever really loved me.”

“
Then why’d you get married?”

“
That’s what good Catholics do when the girl gets pregnant.”

“
And the baby?”

“
She lost it nine days after the wedding.”

“
And you stayed married?”

“
For five years.”

“
Hideo and I were in love for every minute of every day. I think we were in love even before we met, and if it wasn’t for our daughter I think I’d take my own life so that I could be with him now.” Her words sent shivers through him. She seemed to sense it, and she said, “But don’t worry, I won’t.”

Then they were in the shelter of the bay and motoring past the boats at anchor.

“
Hey, Julie, flat tire?” The British accent belonged to Howard Hawes. He gave the weather on the morning radio net.

“
Yeah, Howard, can you help me out?”

“
Come over and we’ll fix it.” He was a blustery single hander who’d all over the world. He’d give you the shirt off his back if he liked you and he liked Hideo and Julie. He had the dinghy patched and pumped up in no time. They didn’t bring up Hideo, but she knew he was overcome. There were no secrets in the small boating community.

Thirty minutes later they were past the breakwater, motoring into the yacht club.

“
I’m going to drop you at the dinghy dock, by the bar. That way you won’t have to walk through the whole club looking like a drowned rat.”

“
About the dead man,” he said. “It never happened.”

“
It never happened,” she said, then added, “Shake on it.” She held out her right hand and he shook it, wondering why he didn’t want to let it go. But he did. Then he raised his hand and snapped his fingers in front of her eyes. She gasped as he opened his palm. There was a card in it, face down.

“
How’d you do that?” she asked.

“
Magic,” he said, continuing to hold his palm out. She took the card from him and turned it over.

“
Don’t tell me.” She smiled. “You’ve given me your heart.”