Authors: Patricia Watters
Once on the
front deck of the bungalow, however, Jerry was the first to notice that
something was wrong. "The door's ajar," he said.
"I'm not
surprised," Andrea replied. "Everyone rushed out in a huff."
"Yeah, but
your father was last to leave," Jerry said. "He wouldn't have left
the door ajar. Stay back and I'll take a look inside."
"Wait!"
Jerry turned.
Andrea
shrugged. "Be careful."
Jerry got an
odd little half smile, which made Andrea feel even more apprehensive because
she realized she still cared. And Jerry was about to enter a place where
Alessandro Cavallaro or one of his paid assassins might be waiting. A sobering
thought that brought a tightening to her chest and a queasy feeling in her
belly. But when Jerry pushed open the door and she was able to see past him,
she saw that the place was in shambles.
"They've
been here alright," Jerry said. "Obviously looking for your handbag
or the stamp. They must have been waiting somewhere around here until everyone
left. But they didn't find what they were looking for so they'll be back...
probably the reason someone was following you on the beach. They think you
still have the stamp, or know where it is."
Andrea moved to
stand beside Jerry and stared in disbelief. The place
was
a wreck—seat cushions slashed with stuffing pulled out, the
contents of dresser drawers strewn about the place, chairs turned over and
tables askew. "We can't stay here," she said.
"I
know," Jerry replied. "And we can't stay at my place either. Whoever
did this is after you. He could be watching us now, which leads me to believe
he doesn't have a gun, at least not with him at the moment. If he did, he'd be
here pointing it at your head." He walked over to the telephone which, to
his surprise, was still connected to the wall, and picked up the receiver.
"Who are
you calling?" Andrea asked.
"Inspector
Schribe," Jerry replied. "After he sees this place and makes his
report, I'm taking you to stay with your parents while I track down Cavallaro.
When I'm through with him, his face won't be quite so pretty, and what's inside
that thong of his just might be missing."
Andrea started
to remind Jerry that he was no match for Alessandro Cavallaro, but knew it
wouldn't make a difference. Jerry was protecting what was his, and she knew
from twenty-five years of living with the man that he'd never back down if
someone he loved was being threatened. A sobering thought. Jerry caring enough
to lay his life on the line for her.
And then she
remembered that Jerry was also an alpha male, and she suspected it was more
about claiming his territory than defending a loved one. And like it or not,
what happened on the beach was nothing more than Jerry claiming what was his,
and she needed that reminder periodically.
Andrea and
Jerry arrived at Andrea's parents’ suite at Finnigan's Hideaway about the same
time Inspector Schribe did. They'd just come from Andrea's bungalow, where both
Inspector Schribe and the island police inspected the place and made reports.
Andrea's parents knew nothing yet, but Andrea could predict her father's
reaction. More aptly, his action.
Hire a
bodyguard for her and fly the man to the island at once.
When her father
answered Jerry's rapping, he looked startled to find Jerry standing in the
doorway, with Andrea and Inspector Schribe standing behind him. Jerry got right
to the point. "I'm putting Andrea in your care, Ellison," he said, in
a voice that was not open for discussion. "Her bungalow was trashed, no
doubt by Cavallaro or one of his men. Until Cavallaro's arrested, Andrea isn't
safe. You keep her here with you and I'm going after the man."
"That's a
whole lot of bravado," Carter said, "but what makes you think you can
catch a man who's been eluding authorities for years?"
Silence hung as
the men stood eyeing each other. Then Jerry replied, "Because that gutter
I grew up in taught me how to deal with scum like Cavallaro. Hiding on this
island isn't much different than hiding in abandoned buildings or shadowy
inner-city alleyways. I can still find my way around in the dark with only a
knife for protection, and I'm sure I can figure out how to use it if I have
to."
The inspector
patted Jerry on the shoulder. "Unfortunately, this isn't the inner city.
Andros Island is one of the last unexplored areas in the western hemisphere.
Cavallaro's inaccessible when he's here. Like I said before, he's hiding out at
a base camp buried deep in the interior of the island, and besides that, the
place is fortified by booby traps. So far, it's been a one-way trip in for
anyone Cavallaro doesn't want in there."
"What kind
of booby traps?" Carter
asked,
eyes sharp with
interest.
"The kind
the Viet Cong used to kill and maim," the inspector replied. "We've
known for some time there's someone skilled at setting and monitoring those
kinds of traps. On occasion, islanders have wandered in and found themselves
with spikes in their legs. On two occasions we sent men in to search for
Cavallaro's headquarters and neither man came out. We suspect they were killed
and their bodies dumped in a blue hole. The island's riddled with them. When
the tide's rising, ocean water's pushed into the holes, and when the tide
changes, the water's sucked back into the ocean, along with any dead body
that's been dumped in."
Carter, who'd
been listening intently, straightened his spine, threw his shoulders back, and
said, "I'll go in then." All heads turned his way, faces displaying
total disbelief.
Barbara, who'd
been standing in the background observing the interaction, hurried over to her
husband and placed her hand on his arm. "You can't possibly be
serious," she said. "You're not a young man anymore, and it's been
over fifty years since you were in a jungle."
Carter eyed his
wife while patting her hand clutching his arm. "Some things stay with you
a lifetime," he said. "I'm in good enough shape to hack my way
through brush if I have to. But there are trails leading in there. We just have
to find them."
"No,
Carter. You just can't—"
"You're right,
Mr. Ellison," the inspector said, cutting Barbara off. "There are
trails cut through the brush into the interior, but they're riddled with booby
traps."
"Which is
why I should go in," Carter said. "I know how to locate traps. If the
person setting them was trained in Nam, I know the same tricks he does. I was
in Special Forces over there while serving in the Mekong Delta next to the
Cambodian border. The place was riddled with mines and booby traps and it was
our job to go in and clear them out before the troops went in."
"Wait!"
Andrea interjected.
"What are you talking about, Daddy? You never said anything about being in
Special Forces."
"It's not
something I talk about," Carter said, in a tone that told Andrea he was
closed to further questions. She stared at her father, trying to absorb what
she'd learned. All the years she was growing up he never talked about Vietnam.
She knew he'd served in the military there, but he never once talked about it.
But for Carter Ellison III to have been in Special Forces, clearing away mines
and booby traps... This was a side of her father she'd never known.
"Carter,"
Barbara pleaded, "you're seventy-four-years old, your reflexes aren't what
they used to be, your memory's good but not that of a man in his twenties, and
you have no business going into the interior of this island... for what? To
capture a man who's involved in drugs?"
"I'd be
going in to get the son-of-a-bitch who wants to kill our daughter."
"Then hire a bodyguard for
Andrea!"
Barbara cried.
Andrea looked
at her mother in shocked surprise. Her mother, a woman always calm, always
collected, always in control. "She's right, Daddy," she said.
"You could have a body guard here in a couple of hours and quit all the
talk about going after Alessandro Cavallaro. Neither you nor Jerry should
consider anything so ridiculous." She looked at Jerry and waited for his
response.
Jerry eyed her
sharply. "Cavallaro's trapped on this island with no way off, and you're a
key witness in indicting him now that the authorities have your handbag with
his fingerprints all over it and drug residue inside that can connect him with
an illegal transfer of money with drug payoff. If he's not caught now, he'll
come after you after we leave the island because he knows your testimony is all
that's needed to have him arrested and put away, probably for life."
"Well,
it's no longer your problem," Andrea clipped, all but admitting to her
parents that the marriage was over. But beneath it she knew she didn't want
Jerry to carry through with this idiotic plan because she still cared about
him. That thought had a sobering effect on her. And as impossible as her father
could be, she didn't want him going in there either.
"It's my
problem as long as you're my wife and the mother of my daughters," Jerry
said, looking at her in a way that told her he'd do this thing, regardless of
her wishes.
"Alright,"
Carter said to Jerry, "you can come since you have some street smarts. You
might even be of use helping me hack my way in there. But you'll do what I say
or we won't get past those traps."
Jerry looked at
Andrea's father long and hard, muscles in his jaws flexing, hands curved into
fists at his sides, the almost identical stance and demeanor of her father,
Andrea noted. If the men had been in grade school, they'd be squared off for a
fight. But instead of exchanging punches, Jerry's hand relaxed, the muscles in
his jaw slacked, and he said, "I'll do what you say, as long as you don't
give me any more crap about stealing your daughter. I've provided well for
Andrea and the kids, and if she decides to call it quits with me, I'll make
sure she's well off financially so she won't have to leave the house I gave her
unless she wants to."
"You mean
she won't have to move into a house I might give her—"
"Stop!"
Andrea said
,
stepping between them and planting a palm against each
man's chest, like a referee holding off a fight. "You two have been
playing this psychological game of chess for twenty-five years and I'm the only
man on the board and I'm fed up with it. I'll be the one to decide where I
live, when and if the time comes."
Jerry let out a
muffled grunt, and her father responded by reaching for the aluminum tube in
his lapel pocket, having second thoughts, and shoving it back in, and saying,
"I've got to make a phone call." He slipped his cell phone from his
pocket and punched in a number, and when the line connected, he said, "I
need a man. Who's available?" After listening to a voice on the other end
of the line, he said, "Yeah, Howell will do. Have him at the air field in
two hours and tell him he's taking a trip to the Bahamas." He signed off
and slipped the phone into his pocket.
And Andrea knew
her bodyguard was on his way. Over the years her father enlisted the services
of such men when she or her mother would be out in a crowd where they could get
kidnapped and held for ransom—the Ellison fortune was ripe to be tapped. Until
now, she'd always been annoyed by what seemed like an overreaction to marginal
circumstances. But the circumstances at the moment were definitely not
marginal, and the threat to her life was real.
Her father
turned to the inspector, and said, "I'll have a man here in a few hours to
stay with my wife and daughter. In the meantime, I'll need a topographical map
of the island. I assume you can get one for me," he said in an
authoritative voice.
The inspector
seemed to take offense to that, the look on his face saying he wasn't yet ready
to turn things over to a lesser man. "It's too dangerous," he said,
"and I'm not authorized to send anyone in with you, so I can't let you do
this."
"You can't
let me?" Carter said. "How do you intend to stop me, inspector? Is
there some law that says no one's allowed in the interior of the island except
drug cartel members?"
The inspector's
eyes sharpened with a kind of begrudged admiration for a man well into his
later years, still forceful and fit, challenging him. "No law," he
replied, "but I advise against it. Even if Cavallaro himself wasn't a
force to reckon with, you'd still be up against a dense forest riddled with
booby traps, and Cavallaro or one of his men could be anywhere in there."
"Let me
tell you a little about tracking down men and finding booby traps, and how it
was done in Nam," Carter said...
As her father
talked about impalement devices, and bamboo whips, and sapling spikes, and
moving silently in the jungle while uncovering booby traps, Andrea noticed
Inspector Schribe looking at him with rapt attention while slowly stroking his
chin with his thumb and forefinger. And as she watched the man's face, she knew
exactly the moment it dawned on him that her father was his ticket to nabbing a
man he'd been after for years. But the look on Jerry's face, as he watched her
father, was entirely different—eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring, jaws clenched.
And she realized, as she listened and watched, that this whole escapade into
the interior of Andros Island was not so much about capturing a man who was a
threat to one man's wife, and the other man's daughter, as it was about two
aging commandos in a power struggle.
Eyeing the men
with a blend of worry and vexation, she said, after her father had finished his
spiel, "All I can say to the two of you is, even if you manage to hack
your way to where Alessandro Cavallaro is hiding out, what's to say you won't
kill each other before you get there?"
Jerry let out a
short guffaw, and replied, "It would be tempting, but your mother seems to
want the man in her life, and for personal reasons I'd rather see Cavallaro
dead than your father."