Cradle (27 page)

She checked another item off the list in her notebook. ‘Oh, yes, I forgot to mention
this morning that I met another boat captain down here, a bit of a creep actually:
an older fat man named Homer. He seemed to recognize me almost immediately. Wealthy,
big yacht and all that. Strange crew—’

‘Was his last name Ashford? Homer Ashford?’ Dale interrupted her.

Carol nodded. ‘So you know him?’ she asked.

‘Certainly,’ Dale replied. ‘He was the leader of the expedition that found the
Santa Rosa
treasure in 1986. You’ve met him too, although it’s obvious you’ve forgotten. He
and his wife were guests at the MOI awards banquet early in 1993.’ Dale stopped to
think. ‘That’s right. I remember now, you were real late coming to the party because
of that threat made against you by Juan Salvador. But I’m surprised you forgot them,
the wife especially. She was a great big fat woman and she thought you were the cat’s
pyjamas.’

Slowly but surely it all clicked in Carol’s memory. She recalled a bizarre evening
right after she first started going with Dale. She had run a piece in the
Herald
on cocaine trafficking and had suggested that the Cuban city council-man, Juan Salvador,
was deliberately inhibiting the police investigations. At noon that day, a usually
reliable source had called her editor at the paper and told him that Señor Salvador
had just purchased a contract on Carol’s life. The
Herald
had assigned her a bodyguard and recommended that she alter her normal schedule so
that her whereabouts would always be uncertain.

The evening of the MOI banquet Carol was in a fog. The bodyguard had been with her
for only three hours and already she felt confined and restricted. But Carol had been
genuinely frightened by the threat. At the banquet she had scrutinized every face,
looking for an assassin, waiting for someone to make a move. As she sat in the hotel
communications room fourteen months later, she did vaguely remember meeting Homer
(he was wearing evening dress) and some jolly fat woman who had followed her around
for twenty minutes or so.
Dammit
, Carol thought.
It’s my memory again. I should have recognized him immediately. How stupid of me
.

‘Okay,’ Carol said to Dale, ‘I remember them now. But why were they at the MOI awards
banquet?’

‘We were honouring our leading benefactors that night,’ Dale replied. ‘Homer and Ellen
have been big supporters of our underwater sentry effort. In fact, he has field tested
many of our prototypes at his facility there in Key West. Real solid test data too.
Best compilation of sentry/intruder responses that anybody has catalogued. Why, it
was Ashford who showed us how the MQ-6 could be fooled….’

‘Okay, okay,’ Carol said, realizing that her tolerance threshold was still extremely
low. ‘Thanks for the information. It’s now a quarter to four. I’m going to go down
to the marina to meet Nick Williams and make arrangements for tomorrow. If anything
new comes up, I’ll call you at home tonight.’

‘Ciao,’ said Dale Michaels, trying without success to sound sophisticated. ‘And please
be careful.’

Carol hung up the phone with a sigh. She wondered if she should spend a minute or
two working out where she and Dale were going.
Or not going. As the case may be
. She thought about all the things she needed to do. She closed her notebook and rose
from her chair.
Not right now
, she thought.
I don’t have time now to think about Dale. But as soon as I have a break in this crazy
life of mine…
.

Carol was really fuming when she walked back into the marina headquarters the second
time. She approached the information desk with fire in her eyes. ‘Miss,’ she said
nastily to Julianne, ‘as I told you fifteen minutes ago, I had an appointment here
at four o’clock with Nick Williams and Troy Jefferson. It is now, as you can see,
after four-thirty.’

Carol pointed at the digital clock with an impatient, sweeping gesture that commanded
Julianne to look. ‘We have both established independently that Mr. Williams is not
home,’ Carol continued. ‘Now are you going to give me Mr. Jefferson’s phone number,
or should I make a scene?’

Julianne did not like Carol or her obvious attitude of superiority. She held her ground.
‘As I told you, Miss Dawson,’ she said politely but with a biting overtone, ‘marina
policy prohibits our giving out the phone numbers of the independent boat owners or
their crew members. It’s a question of privacy. Now if you had a formal charter through
the marina,’ Julianne continued, enjoying her moment of glory, ‘then it would be our
job to assist you. But as I said earlier, we have no record—’

‘Goddamn it, I know that,’ replied Carol furiously. She slammed the envelope of photos
that she was carrying down on Julianne’s counter. ‘I’m not an imbecile. We’ve been
through this before. I told you I was supposed to meet them here at four o’clock.
Now if you won’t help me, I want to talk to your superior, the assistant manager or
whatever.’

‘Fine,’ said Julianne, her eyes firing darts of contempt at Carol. ‘If you will just
take a seat over there, I will see if I can locate—’

‘I will
not
take a seat,’ shouted Carol in exasperation. ‘I want to see him now. This is an issue
of extreme urgency. Now pick up the phone and—’

‘Is something wrong here? Perhaps I can help.’ Carol spun around. Homer Ashford was
standing right behind her. Just to the right, toward the gate in the direction of
the jetties, Greta and a big heavy woman were talking quietly.
That’s Ellen. Now I remember her
, Carol thought. Ellen smiled at Carol. Greta looked right through her.

‘Well, hello, Captain Homer,’ Julianne said sweetly, ‘it’s nice of you to ask. But
I think everything’s under control. Miss Dawson here has just indicated that she does
not accept my explanation of marina policy. She is going to wait for—’

‘Maybe you
can
help.’ Carol interrupted Julianne defiantly. ‘I had an appointment here at four o’clock
with Nick Williams and Troy Jefferson. They have not shown up. Do you by any chance
happen to know Troy’s phone number?’

Captain Homer gave Carol a suspicious look and exchanged a knowing glance with Ellen
and Greta. He turned back to Carol. ‘Well, it is certainly a surprise, Miss Dawson,
to see you back here again. Why, we were just talking about you this morning, saying
that we hoped you had a good time on your free day in Key West.’ He paused for effect.
‘Now, I wonder why you’ve come back here again, the very next day. And did I hear
correctly, you need to see Williams and Jefferson on an issue of extreme urgency?
It couldn’t possibly have anything to do with all that equipment you brought in here
yesterday, could it? Or the little grey bag that Williams has been guarding since
last night?’

Uh oh
, thought Carol, as Greta and Ellen moved in around her.
I’m surrounded
. Captain Homer started to pick up the sealed envelope on Julianne’s counter but Carol
stopped him.

‘If you don’t mind, Captain Ashford,’ she said firmly, taking his hand off the envelope
and putting the photos under her arm. She lowered her voice. ‘I would like to talk
to you privately.’ Carol nodded her head at the two women. ‘Can we go out in the parking
lot together for a minute?’

Homer’s beady eyes squinted at her. Then his face broke into the same obnoxious, lecherous
smile that Carol had seen on the
Ambrosia
. ‘Certainly, my dear,’ he said. He shouted to Greta and Ellen as he walked out the
door with Carol, ‘Wait here. I’ll only be a minute.’

Necessity is the mother of invention
, Carol thought to herself as she led Homer Ashford out of the door.
So invent, bitch. And now. As in this moment
.

They walked up the steps to the car park. Carol turned to Captain Homer at the top
of the steps with a conspiratorial look on her face. ‘I can tell that you’ve figured
out why I’m here,’ she said. ‘I didn’t want it this way, I thought it would make a
better story if nobody knew what I was doing. But you’re obviously too clever for
me.’ Homer grinned foolishly. ‘But I would ask you to tell as few people as possible.
You can tell your wife and Greta, but please nobody else. The
Herald
wants it to be a surprise.’

Homer looked puzzled. Carol leaned over and almost whispered in his ear. ‘The
entire
Sunday magazine section the fourth week in April. Isn’t that unbelievable? Working
title, “Dreams of Being Rich”, stories about people like you, like Mel Fisher, like
the four Floridans who have won over a million dollars each in the lottery. On how
sudden income changes your life. I’m doing the whole piece. I’m starting with the
treasure angle because of its general interest.’

Carol could see that Captain Homer was reeling. She knew she had him off guard. ‘Yesterday
I just wanted to check your boat quickly, see how you lived, see how it would photograph.
I freaked out a little when you recognized me so fast. But I had always planned to
go out with Williams first.’ Carol laughed. ‘My treasure-finding equipment from MOI
faked him out. He still thinks I’m a genuine treasure seeker. I almost completed my
whole interview with him yesterday. I only came back today to finish a couple of small
items.’

An alert went off in Homer Ashford’s system when Carol talked about faking out Nick
Williams. Homer wasn’t certain he believed this smooth reporter’s story even now.
He mused to himself that her story was plausible, but there was still one big unanswered
question. ‘But what is Williams carrying around in that bag?’ he asked.

‘That,’ said Carol, sensing his distrust, ‘is nothing.’ She raised her eyebrows and
laughed again. ‘Or almost, anyway. We pulled up a worthless old trinket yesterday
afternoon so I could photograph the salvage process for the story. I told him to have
it appraised today. He thinks I’m an eccentric. He must be keeping it hidden in the
bag because he’s embarrassed and doesn’t want anybody to see him with it.’

Carol lightly hit Captain Homer in the ribs with her elbow. He shook his head. Part
of him realized he was being told a very clever lie. But somehow enough of it made
sense that Homer couldn’t pierce the deception. His brow furrowed for a moment. ‘So
I guess you’ll want to talk to us when you’re through with the other two….’

At just that moment, unbeknown to Carol, Nick and Troy drove into the marina parking
lot. They were still slightly drunk and silly. ‘Lawdy, lawdy,’ said Troy, spotting
Carol and Captain Homer in conversation, ‘I believe my eyes have screwed up. They’re
sending a picture of a beauty and a beast to my brain. It’s Miss Carol Dawson together
with our favourite fat captain. Now what do you suppose they’re talking about?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Nick, bridling instantly, ‘but I’m damn sure going to find out.
If she’s double-crossing us….’ He pulled the car quickly into a parking place and
started to jump out. Troy reached across and restrained him.

‘Now why don’t you let me handle this one?’ Troy said. ‘Humour may be just the right
ticket here.’

Nick thought for a moment. ‘Maybe you’re right,’ he said. ‘I’ll let you go first.’

Troy walked into view just as Carol and Captain Homer were finishing their conversation.
‘Hello, angel,’ he said from forty yards away, ‘what’s happening?’

Carol held her hand up in acknowledgment but didn’t turn around to greet Troy. ‘So
that’s 2748 Columbia, just beyond the Pelican Resort, at eight-thirty tomorrow night?’

‘Right,’ replied Homer Ashford. He nodded his head in Troy’s direction and started
to leave. ‘We’ll be ready for you. Bring plenty of tape. It’s a long story.’ He made
a peculiar clucking sound with his mouth. ‘And plan to stay for a little party afterwards.’

Homer was already halfway down the steps when Troy walked up beside Carol. ‘Hello,
Captain Homer. Goodbye, Captain Homer,’ he said quietly, still playing the comic.
He leaned over to kiss Carol on the cheek. ‘Hi there, angel….’

‘Yuch,’ Carol pulled her cheek away. ‘You smell like a brewery. No wonder I’ve had
to look all over town for you two.’ She saw Nick coming toward them across the parking
lot. He was carrying the exercise bag. She raised her voice. ‘Well, Mr. Williams,
what a pleasant surprise. How nice that you and your brother here could climb down
from your bar stools long enough to keep our appointment.’ She looked at her watch.
‘My, my,’ she said in her most sarcastic voice, ‘we are certainly fashionably late.
Let’s see, if one waits fifteen minutes for a full professor, how long does one wait
for a fake professor?’

‘Knock off the bullshit, Miss High-and-Mighty,’ Nick said, responding angrily to her
barbs. He joined Carol and Troy and then caught his breath. ‘We have a few bones to
pick with you as well,’ he continued. ‘Just what were you doing talking to that asshole
Ashford?’

Nick sounded threatening. Carol recoiled. ‘Listen to him,’ she said, ‘the typical
macho male. Always shifts the blame to the woman. “Hey bitch,” he says, “forget I’m
late, forget I’m an arrogant bastard, it was your fault anyway….”’

‘Hey, hey…
hey
,’ Troy interceded. Carol and Nick were glowering at each other. They both started
to speak but Troy interrupted them again. ‘Children, children, please,’ he continued,
‘I have something important to say.’ They both looked at him. Troy raised his arms
for quiet. Then he adopted a stiff pose and pretended to be reading. ‘Fourscore and
seven years ago, our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation….’

Carol cracked up first. ‘Troy,’ she said, smiling despite her anger, ‘you are something
else. You are also ridiculous.’

A grinning Troy punched Nick on the shoulder. ‘How did I do, Professor? Would I make
a good Lincoln? Could a nice young black boy play Lincoln for the white folks?’

Nick smiled reluctantly and looked down at the tarmac while Troy talked. When Troy
was finished, Nick’s tone to Carol was conciliatory. ‘I’m sorry we were late,’ he
said in measured tones, ‘we forgot what time it was. Here’s the trident.’